Goldie The Superhero Ch 02

PREFACE

I want to thank everyone for the positive comments and helpful feedback to Goldie's first episode. It was my first experience writing a fantasy superhero story. I am especially grateful for the insightful feedback, generous editing and creative collaboration with flirty_but_nice. Her ideas and interaction have done more than just inspire my writing. I invite you to check out her stories on this site as well.

I encourage you to read Goldie's first episode to get her backstory. If you choose to jump into Goldie's adventure here, it will be helpful to know she has a unique superpower ability called "intention reversal." For reasons described in the first episode (related to her parent's research), Goldie is able to reverse the intentions of another person, causing them to experience what they intend for her. For example, if someone intends to harm Goldie by stabbing or choking her, her superpower reverses their intention, causing them to experience a disabling stabbing pain or constriction of their own throat. On the other hand, her powers can also be used to reverse pleasurable intentions. For example, if someone wants to make her happy or pleasure her to an ecstatic orgasm, she is able to use her gift to return the favors. She engages her power of intention reversal simply by locking eyes with another person. As they say, the eyes are the windows to the soul.

Goldie's scientist parents also created a special "power belt" for her that multiplies every ability and sensation tenfold. When worn, she is ten times stronger, can see ten times better, experiences sensations ten times more intensely, and so on. When put on, the belt immediately adjusts to fit the wearer. Goldie wears the belt as part of her superhero uniform with a gold bra-like top and short gold skirt that gives her maximum freedom of movement, tall gold matching boots and a gold mask over her eyes to protect her identity.

As a tall, gorgeous, voluptuous, fit, young woman, Goldie is committed to using her super power of intention reversal and the physical enhancements of her power belt to fight crime. Of course, Goldie is the superhero name she uses to protect her real identity. However, Goldie is also discovering that being a superhero requires more than having special powers and equipment. Sometimes her greatest battles and vulnerabilities may be within herself.

In the first episode, Goldie saved the day, stopping the evil villain Damián from his plan to use nuclear terrorism to take control of the world. We also discovered Goldie is willing to use her body in any way necessary to stop evil.

This story is purely recreational superhero fantasy. Any resemblance to actual people, superheroes or reality is entirely coincidental. Any comments acknowledging this are unnecessary, although positive comments are sincerely appreciated. Other feedback is also welcomed using the email form. 
The intensity of suspense and sex increase with each chapter.

 Most of all, I hope you enjoy this second episode of Goldie, the superhero.

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CHAPTER ONE

News outlets lit up with the story. The wicked plan of the malevolent scum ball Damián to steal nuclear material and sell it to terrorists was foiled. An entire gang led by the narcissist was found tied up for the police to pick up. His lackeys and bimbo girlfriend sang like birds to reduce their own jail time, while implicating Damián. As for him, Damián was out of his mind. The police found him mysteriously covered in his own cum, his body strangely convulsing from one involuntary orgasm after another while shouting outbursts of incoherent sexual expletives. He was sentenced to life in a prison for the criminally insane, where he will never again be a danger to society. If all of this wasn't enough, the biggest part of the story was that one person, Goldie the Superhero, saved the world.

The ruggedly handsome Chief of Police Cliff Johnson stood proudly as a myriad of flashing digital cameras, audio and video recorders all jockeyed for position in front him. Reporters shouted questions, eager to hear their own voices when the press conference would most certainly be played on every media outlet around the country. Chief Johnson gushed in his responses about the sacrificial heroism of Goldie, touting my bravery and willingness to do anything necessary to thwart such a dastardly criminal. "Justice prevailed," he said. "We will all go to bed tonight knowing the world is safer because of the unaided heroic work of Goldie," he added with a glimmer in his eye.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't secretly wish his words about going to bed tonight were an invitation by him to personally show me the gratitude the city had for my heroism. I watched the impressive 6'4" blond muscular warrior maneuver his answers to asinine questions reporters are obliged to ask. He looked handsomely straight into the cameras with his no-nonsense steely blues while masterfully avoiding sharing any details under the guise it was still an "active investigation." He had one purpose for the press conference: to generously communicate a major crime had been solved single-handedly by Goldie the Superhero. My heart and head grew.

The irony of all the notoriety is that no one knows who I really am. For my safety and that of those around me, I have no choice but to keep my real identity hidden. In one sense, everyone knows who I am; in another, nobody does. It can be lonely being a superhero. There is no one I can sit down with over drinks after a hard day and vent. It also makes long-term intimate relationships impossible.

However, I'd also be lying if I said the respect and notoriety I receive didn't make me proud. When I walk down the street in my recognizable gold outfit, normal citizens stare admirably, applauding and taking quick photos. When criminals see me coming, they most often either surrender without resistance or run. The community feels safer when I am around. Chief Johnson regularly fends off requests for me to speak or to pose for photo ops. People know he is the only one who has the direct number to contact me through an encrypted cell phone he gave me. He never bothered me with these requests, reserving his rare use of the phone to urgent matters. Like anyone, I like the feeling of being appreciated, needed and celebrated.

I was surprised to receive a call from the Chief on the dedicated phone a week after the arrests at the nuclear distribution center.

"Goldie, this is Chief Johnson," his strong voice announced.

"Of course it is Chief," I said. "Who else would it be?"

"True," he said, recognizing the obviousness of his greeting.

"What can I do for you Chief?" I asked sincerely.

"Actually, this time I'm calling for what I would like to do for you," he said. "I am grateful for all you do, and again for what you did last week in nabbing that fool at the nuclear distribution center. Thwarting that crime probably saved thousands of lives."

"It's my pleasure," I answered. "No need to do anything."

"I appreciate your generosity," he said. "I wondered if you would do me the favor of joining me for dinner tomorrow night. It would be a small token of my appreciation and the opportunity for us to get to know each other a little better for the sake of our crime fighting partnership. There is no other agenda."

I smiled as my mind raced through all the ways I'd love to get to know him better. "What do you have in mind, Chief?" I asked sincerely.

"There is a small French restaurant called Le Intime in the Old Town district of the city. Are you familiar with it?" he asked.

"I know where it is, but have never eaten there," I answered.

"It's wonderful. I know the owner. He has reserved a table in the back of the restaurant tomorrow evening for us to meet for dinner. We can enter using the back entrance from the alley to minimize anyone knowing we are there. 8:00?" he asked, assuming my acceptance of his invitation.

"Will it just be the two of us?" I asked hopefully.

"If you don't mind, my new girlfriend will be joining us too. For some reason she felt wary about me meeting a gorgeous super-heroine alone in the back of a dimly lit French restaurant," he confessed honestly.

"Thank you for the complement," I said with a blush he couldn't see through the phone. The attraction was mutual. "Smart woman," I teased.

Cliff smiled at my response. He had taken a risk to offer the flirtatious complement and was glad I played along. "8:00 then?" he asked again.

I normally would refuse to meet anyone socially or in public dressed in my superhero uniform, but an invitation by the police chief for the sake of our partnership in law enforcement seemed different. Although I wouldn't feel comfortable meeting him at the police station or in broad daylight, a clandestine meeting for a late dinner seemed like a good opportunity to get to know each other and build trust. "8:00 it is," I answered.

I beamed with pride as I hung up the phone. His call and invitation made me feel respected. Don't get me wrong. I am secure in myself and don't need others to make me feel significant. However, one can't help the natural pride that comes from an unsolicited offer like this. His invitation and harmless flirtation made me feel pursued, almost like a schoolgirl asked out on a date. I also felt I couldn't pass up the opportunity for us to get to know each other better.

To protect my identity, I decided to walk to the restaurant rather than drive. A simple look at my registration in my glove box by the valet after I step out of the car wearing my uniform would instantly expose my identity. My condo was only fifteen blocks from the restaurant in a newer part of the city more popular with young adults like me. It was also near my day job as a mild-mannered marketing analyst. While Old Town preserved the history of the city with wonderful long established shops and eateries, it also had its seedy streets that were unwise to be out on at night. As a young woman, I didn't spend much time in this part of the city. However, with the streets lit fairly well, and with my belt on, I felt completely safe. I tried to stay in the shadows to not call attention to myself, before darting into the dark alley behind the small restaurant.

Knock, knock.

Francois, the owner of the restaurant, greeted me personally with his broad smile as he opened the back door. "Dépêchez-vous! Dépêchez-vous!" he said, hurrying me in. He stuck his head out the door to look both ways down the dim alley before closing the door. "Monsieur Johnson is right this way. Please follow me," he whispered energetically, waving his hand for me to follow. He was honored to host the surreptitious meeting. Classical French music played softly throughout the small restaurant. The walls were painted with rich colors, accented with elegant molding and decorated with large French paintings. Delicious fragrances of French cuisine filled the air.

Cliff immediately stood up when he saw me walk around the corner in my recognizable gold uniform. "Good evening," he said warmly, holding his hand out to offer a handshake. "I'm glad you could make it," he added.

Despite his professional intentions, he held the handshake awkwardly longer than conventional. His eyes traversed the vision of my near-naked voluptuous body more closely than he had ever seen it. His direct eye contact with my gold mask moved down my golden curly locks to my bare shoulders before taking in my full round breasts barely covered by my gold top. After a brief but thorough study of my tits, he admired the sight of my firm abs above my legendary blue belt and tiny gold skirt. He finished his tour, gazing down the beauty of my long tan fit legs, finally finishing with my tall gold boots. Chief Johnson was almost always more professional than this when out in public. However, with testosterone coursing through his veins in a dimly lit restaurant for a casual dinner with a beautiful woman, his guard was understandably lower than usual. Despite all his power, he is still a man. Even the low light couldn't hide the signs of arousal in the front of his pants as he drunk in the sight of me like a rich smooth cabernet.

"Good evening," I said, standing patiently while allowing him to enjoy the full visual tour of my body. It only seemed fair after doing the same to him so many times whenever I saw him TV offering an official comment on some local crime. His gaze may not have been as long as it felt, but it was definitely longer than a usual handshake. I'm sure it felt even longer to his trophy girlfriend sitting awkwardly next to him.

"Huh hum!" she grunted, breaking the silence with a fake clearing of her voice.

"Ah yes," he said blinking his eyes to break the lustful trance. "It's nice to finally have a chance get to know one another Goldie. Do you prefer to be called Goldie?"

"That will be fine," I said, seeing no reason to reveal my real name.

"This is my girlfriend Stacy," he said with an uncomfortable gesture toward the gorgeous brunette trophy sitting at the table next to him.

Stacy put out her hand, offering a confident game-face smile. She was used to easily stealing the attention of any man when she walked into a room, and then keeping it while she was there. The focus of Cliff's eyes and the undeniable movement in his pants meant she would be sharing the table with rare competition for her man's attention. It confirmed the rightness of her decision to accompany Cliff to this dinner. Stacy wore a simple but elegant shimmering almost-transparent silver dress with spaghetti straps that allowed for a plunging view of her beautiful grapefruit sized breasts. Her saucer-like round blue eyes offset her dark hair. She was stunning in her own right.

"Nice to meet you," she said with a quick shake of my hand without standing up. "Please have a seat," she said, more eager for Cliff to hide the embarrassing but impressive large snake moving in his pants than she was to offer me hospitality. Our private simple table for four was covered by a white linen tablecloth and tucked away in the dimly lit back corner of the restaurant. A heavy curtain that hung from the ceiling was pulled to shield us from view of other patrons in the restaurant. The table was set with beautiful French silverware for three, wine glasses and a bottle of one of Francois' finest imported red wines already opened for the occasion. Cliff sat across from me; his trophy Stacy sat on a side of the table between us.

"Wine?" Cliff offered, picking up the bottle to top Stacy's glass off before tipping it slightly as a gesture in my direction.

"That would be nice," I answered as I took my seat. I normally would never drink when in my uniform or in public, to avoid any risk of compromising my ability to respond if needed. My power belt not only multiplies my strength and abilities by ten, but also every sensation in my body. This provides amazing benefits when alone in my condo with Max, my vibrator. However, it also multiplies the affects of alcohol in my system. Tonight felt different however. I was about to spend a quiet enjoyable evening with the chief of police and his girlfriend in a quaint French restaurant. It felt safe. It felt comfortable. And even if in the unlikely event I were called upon to stop a crime, my super strength and abilities would still be able to easily overcome anything I would face, even with a little buzz from the wine.

The enjoyment of the food, wine and conversation happened with ease, especially between Cliff and me. Stacy was comfortable, but ever on her guard to prevent anyone from trying to steal her man, or her man being tempted to stray. Two hours passed quickly, savoring hors d'oeuvres, salad, soup, entrees and decadent French pastries with ice cream for dessert. The conversation began naturally with crime and law enforcement matters in the city. However, the more time passed and wine flowed, the more things relaxed into casual conversation, laughter and harmless flirting. It felt more like old college friends getting together for a night on the town than a meeting of two crime fighters. Stacy worked to keep stride with the obvious flirtatious bantering between Cliff and me, fueled by the alcohol. She confidently used her skills of seduction to keep Cliff's sexual attention on her, while not showing any sign of jealousy from the flirtation. Stacy had realized quickly when she started dating him that female cops, reporters and fine citizens across the city naturally lusted after the attractive power and physique of her impressive boyfriend. There was nothing she could do about that. They could look and lust all they wanted, but every night made sure she enjoyed what everyone else could only fantasize about.

Throughout the dinner, Stacy worked to keep his attention with an occasional gentle rub of his leg by her foot under the table, or by reaching over to his lap, sliding her hand across his inner thigh to give a gentle grab of his cock over his pants. Although being subtle, she made sure she was just obvious enough to guarantee I had no doubt of what she was doing. Each time she snuck a grab of Cliff, she made a point to smile at me as if to say, he's mine.

I had no problem with Stacy's intimate touches of Cliff during dinner; I even enjoyed watching it. However, it surprised me the first time I felt Cliff's foot covertly rub against the back of my calf under the table. He smiled nonchalantly as he discretely slipped his shoe off and caressed the back of my leg without Stacy knowing. At first, I was confused. Did he think he was caressing the back of Stacy's leg but accidentally found mine? But that didn't seem possible. He was caressing my right leg, and Stacy sat to my left. It was a gutsy move by Cliff with Stacy sitting between us. I realized his actions were offering a challenge as much as flirtation. I was convinced he would love nothing more than these two gorgeous women competing for his affection, preferably naked with him on a bed. For that matter, he would love nothing more than the two of us teaming up to fuck him right here on this table.

Encouraged by the influence of the wine and against my normal better judgment, I decided to play his little game. All three of us were more than a little tipsy. During the entrée course of dinner I pretended like I dropped my napkin on the floor. When I bent down to pick it up, I quickly slid the zipper down on my boot, freeing my bare foot from it's binding. As I sat back up in my chair, I gave him a devious smile as my foot moved under the cover of the tablecloth to reciprocate. However rather than reaching for the back of his calf, I slowly moved my foot up the inside of his muscular leg toward the prize.

Panic covered his face like a Rembrandt. He felt the immediate peril of what he had started. He should have known I never back down from a challenge, and I don't stop until I win.

I smiled and made some benign statement to Stacy of how beautiful she was and how stunning she looked in her dress. Stacy pride-fully took my words as concession to her sultry skills and ownership of Cliff. It was almost impossible for her to know that at that very moment my foot had found its mark and my toes were wrapping themselves around his rock hard cock through his slacks. Cliff tried to adjust his body to escape, but the force of my foot against his dick made it impossible. He knew if Stacy realized what was happening under the table it would ruin the night for them, if not the relationship. He had no choice to surrender to his dick's captivity.

I slowly moved my foot up and down his thick long shaft while maintaining my firm pressure against it.

"Oh shit," Cliff mumbled as the pleasure of my touch began its work.

"What's the matter?" Stacy asked.

"Oh nothing," he said, not wanting his words to give himself away. "I just realized there is something I need to finish," he said with a quick determined glance in my direction. "Another day," he said as a promise.