Let me start with an apology for how long it has taken me to write another fan fiction. I didn't want to force a story that wasn't really coming naturally to me — I tried a couple times and they were just horrible. I thought about what I REALLY wanted to do, and that apparently was to explore more of the badass women in Gotham. It was fun getting into the mind of Batgirl for Batgirl's Thrills, so here is Catwoman. It's interesting to see in what ways Selina is both different and similar to Barbara. This will also be a series — so let's see what kind of mischief and fun Catwoman gets up to. And what other characters will pop up in her story! This first chapter is my take on Selina's beginnings — her motives and connections to Batman. More fun to come. Enjoy!

—

I used to live in the shittiest apartment. Seriously, it was abysmal. Well, it was also abandoned, and in the hellhole that was The Bowery in Gotham. You couldn't get much lower than that in this city. My mother offed herself not long after I was born, and my dad was a typical loser drunk who kicked my ass every night. That was until I decided I was worth more than the nothing he said I was. So I left, and at 17 I had to make a living for myself somehow. I was always a petite thing. My old Madam Camille used to call me "lithe and leggy" — at least that's how she sold me to her clients. Like so many other lost girls in a bleak metropolis, I found myself in one of Gotham's most infamous business rings of the underworld. I slept with men twice my age, sometimes three times. I used to hate the work. Then I became sort of numb to it.

I could have stayed in the house provided by Madam Camille, but I needed an escape. I found an old abandoned building with running water, electricity, everything. I couldn't believe my good luck. Turns out the Wayne family had plans to fix up this neighborhood (and had already secured all the old tenants new housing) before they were killed — not far from where I grew up with my father. Guess the utility companies saw they left the lights on on their way out and didn't question it. They may be dead, but they were still paying the bills. I brought all my girlfriends from Camille's to live with me. We cleaned it up, made it nice — at least for our standards.

But it wasn't anywhere near as nice as this… I've never lived in a place as nice as this.

I looked around my new vast, clean, industrial-style loft. It had gorgeous wood floors, dark greyish blue walls, and the most beautiful view of my golden city of Gotham through a giant window next to the balcony — complete with french doors. Easy to get in and out of...

"We're going to like it here, right, Luna?" I said to my black cat, perched on my right shoulder. She mewed softly and jumped to the floor to explore her new domain. I took in my open kitchen, my bed on a raised platform… who knew I could have such luxuries? Me! A street girl from "broke-down Bowery."

I jumped up with a giggle and spun around my room with Luna meowing happily around my feet. I ran and jumped on my King-size bed, sighing as my body sunk down into the glorious memory foam mattress. This is the life.

Not that I'd never had a taste of the good life. I eventually became a fan favorite with Madam Camille's men. I got upgraded to call-girl status, meaning I got to go pleasure the richy riches in Gotham Heights. Camille hooked me up with the classiest sex clothes there were and sent me off to the mansions, where the wives were on perpetual vacations or had those weird open relationships with their politician husbands. My regulars served me the most expensive champagne, gave the most illustrious gifts, and usually gave me the worst sex I'd ever had. They were just too cocky — didn't think they had to work at it. Not that I cared.

I once had to work a sex party with some of the richest, most important men of Gotham City. This was a fancy, semi-costumed affair with secret black invitations and everything. No phones, electronics or inhibitions allowed — just a whole bunch of condoms. It was there that I saw Bruce Wayne for the first time. He had just returned from years and years abroad, and at the time he was like the prodigal son returned to his beloved city. He was all over the news and in the papers. The other high society boys were shaking his hand and chatting loudly around him — but he looked incredibly uncomfortable, like he had no idea what kind of party this was until he walked in and saw the half naked ladies serving the most delicious bruschetta.

I wanted to walk up to him and thank him and his family for giving me and my family of girls a place to live, but I realized how silly that was. He would have had no idea what I was talking about and would probably call up his financial people right away to cut the power from those abandoned buildings. So I didn't say anything. How ironic that my work took me to the highest highs of society, and I came home to the slums — hand washing my lingerie with stolen detergent.

But I did get to talk to Gotham's golden boy. My date for the night was Stuart Anderson, a blue blood who worked in the Financial District. He grabbed me around the waist and led me towards Bruce and a man he was chatting to.

"Wayne! Bruce Wayne, welcome home brother!" Stuart called out loudly, obviously intoxicated. "What do you think of this for a welcome home gift? Though I'm sure you got plenty of action oversees — what, European babes? Asian chicks? You'll have to tell me later. But you can't beat this homegrown stuff, right? This is Selina. She's a true Gotham girl, and you can't find that anywhere else. Selina, this is Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent."

I did what I always did, which was look at them with my large dark eyes and a coy half-smile, like their presence amused me. My long, raven hair was twisted around my shoulder so tendrils fell across my bare décolletage and down my back.

"Selina! Honored to meet you," Harvey said, grabbing my hand and kissing it with a smile. He certainly was handsome in a clean-cut sort of way. I smiled appreciatively, then turned to Bruce.

"Bruce Wayne," I said slowly and intoxicatingly like it was my job, which it was. I remembered Camille distinctly telling me to use this party for "networking." Better clients for me meant better clients for her.

Following suit, Bruce took my hand and kissed it, giving it a warm squeeze before letting go. There was something about his eyes. Dark and boyish, but somehow… trustworthy. It's not something one would normally notice or seek out. But for my job, I had to look out for the good guys and the bad guys — and prepare myself for the latter. Bruce was a good guy.

"Selina. Is there a last name with that?" He asked in a rumbly, deep voice that took me by surprise.

"Sorry, Wayne, no last names for the girls at this party," he butted in with a hearty chuckle. Yes, it was all fun and games for you, Stuart.

"What do you say, Bruce? How 'bout her as a gift from me? She's already bought and paid for for the night. And trust me," he said leaning towards his friend. "I'll just say you're welcome right now."

It took all of my willpower not to kick him so hard in the privates that his thing never worked again. But I was on the job. Bruce blushed heavily and looked at me.

"Oh, no, Stuart, please. Thank you, but no. I don't think I'll be taking part in those activities tonight." Stuart jumped up in a tizzy and leaped to Bruce's side in protest, shoving me out of the way in the process. I walked away, happy to escape.

But, oh, I wish Bruce had said yes that night. Maybe things would have been different then.

Not that it ended up so bad. I grabbed Luna and placed her on my shoulder. I walked out onto the balcony just as the sun was setting over the last skyscraper. Almost time to go to work. I didn't get as much sleep as usual today with the move (a girl's got to get her cat naps in), but I think it's going to be a good night.

I've never seen the moon this bright. It was a giant orb hanging low in the skyline. I could almost carve out the craters with my sharpened nail.

"Bye bye, Luna," I cooed to my black kitty as I pulled my cowl over my face and climbed on the railing of my balcony. Time to have some fun.

I leapt off the railing backwards so I free fell down towards the golden streetlights below.

Ahh. Oh, I loved this feeling of freedom, exhilaration, and the promise of some mischief. I tucked my body and flipped around, releasing my whip in one seamless flick of the wrist. It caught on a flagpole attached to the side of a government building. I spun around it once and landed smoothly on a nearby building's roof, as graceful as a feline exploring her own home. And Gotham was definitely my home. I knew all its nooks and crannies. There was only one other who knew it just as well, if not better than me. Hopefully I'd be able to sneak up on him tonight…

And maybe more, I thought with a grin.

But first, I had business to take care of. All of this reminiscing of my past really got me in the mood for something I haven't concerned myself with for a long time. Be it denial, apathy, or repression — I needed to pay a visit to Treasury Secretary, Mr. Stuart Anderson. With a crack of my whip, I headed in the direction of Gotham Heights.

I fingered my black corset lingerie, desperate to take it off, as I clutched my champagne and stared at the full moon outside the window of this ridiculous mansion. I was just counting down the minutes until Stuart came stumbling for me, finally ready to get his money's worth before passing out on top of me.

"Black really suits you, Miss Selina." I turned around, surprised not to hear Stuart's slurred speech, but the deep and clear voice of Bruce Wayne. He walked to my side with a half smile, holding his own dark drink in his right hand. He was wearing a fitted black half-turtleneck and dark trousers. I eyed him up and down.

"Suits you too, Mr. Wayne." He clinked his glass against mine and we both took a sip. I waited for him to say something, but he just remained silent, looking out towards the moon and standing only a few inches away from me. Then I waited for him to grab my ass, put his fingers between my legs or even down my underwear. Hey, it's happened before. But he didn't. He just looked at the twinkling lights of the city below, like in a trance. I wondered if he was dreaming of his escape, just like I was dreaming mine.

"How does it feel being back in Gotham?" I asked in a low, husky voice, as if asking normal, personal questions was against the rules in a place like this. He considered my question seriously.

"It feels…" He paused for several seconds. I watched his dark, kind eyes, waiting. "Well, the closest word I can come up with is bittersweet, but it's not quite that. It's a bit more complicated."

"It must be hard," I said. His eyes shot up to mine.

"Not as hard as other people have it." His eyes lingered on mine, and for the first time in a long time I had to look away. My purpose here at this party was not a secret, but at that moment it felt like Bruce had just found me out.

"I—" I began.

"SELINA!" A loud, coarse voice rang out through the crowds, who parted before me. Stuart stumbled towards me with the widest grin, his arms outstretched to trap me under the crook of his heavy elbow. I shot a quick look at Bruce, whose eyebrows had shot up in surprise.

"Nah-uh, Bruce-y. I gave you a chance already. I'm taking this little minx off to bed. She's mine to do with what I want." He tugged me towards the back hallway of bedrooms — many of which were already filled with couples and groups and watchers. Moans and cries filled the dank, narrow space. I looked back just once to see Bruce watch me leave — just as Harvey Dent approached with a skinny blonde hanging off his shoulder. He clapped a hand to Bruce's back.

"Don't worry Bruce," Harvey said a little too loudly. "It's her job. She can handle him."

I never saw Bruce Wayne again after that night. At least, not in person. On the news a couple times, but that's it. I could see him if I wanted to. I mean, I could break into anyone's home — even his fancy mansion on his secluded hilltop. But he was the only good guy I met out there on the job. Plus, his family really did me and my girls right, even if they never even knew. So I vowed never to steal from him personally. Sure, I've been tempted a few times — to see him and steal from him. He was pretty handsome. I had a feeling I could really get under his skin. But there was another guy I was kind of in a relationship with.

Someone with a bit more… mystery.

I landed on the Anderson mansion with the softest patter of feet. This scumbag deserved a million things stolen from him, but one priceless thing every once a blue moon made him so hilariously frustrated, it made the wait completely worth it. I crawled my way to one of the back windows on the third floor completely shrouded in shadow. I knew the entire layout of this house by now. They kept buying better and better security, but they just became better challenges for me to truly refine my skills. Not that I needed much refinement, trust me.

I pulled out my EMP disruptor and attached it to the electricity box outside the house. Wayne Tech product — even now the Waynes were helping me out, and once again he had no idea. With the press of a button the electricity in the mansion surged and went out for a few seconds — long enough for me to sneak in, but short enough that the security company wouldn't be alerted. Easy as pie.

I knew what I wanted this time. Mrs. Anderson's gorgeous black opal feline figurine. Last time I was here I saw it and just felt a connection with it. It was just… me. Who I saw myself as… or, who I wanted to be. Who I strived to be. And in the end it was Mr. Anderson who helped me realize that. I would never thank him for anything… but perhaps I could recognize his influence on my life.

"Get off me, Stuart! Get off, you're too drunk," I said angrily, losing my patience. We were in a room filled with other hot and heavy couples — the rich elite entangled with Gotham's "homegrown" street girls. The air was thick and hazy with passion. But all I could feel was Stuart's heavy body pressing down on mine, pushing the air out of me.

"Hey!" He hissed between his teeth. "You can say 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' and that's it. I paid you, so shut up and open your legs. Open them."

I laid there in shock. That escalated quickly — it was clear he was the mean kind of drunk. He ripped my corset open and kissed my neck and down to my breasts. I just laid there, not even trying to engage with him. I'd humored him on past excursions, but he had never acted like this before. As a call girl I now had the authority to say no. And right now, I was saying no.

"Stuart, get the hell off me — now. This is done. You are no longer my client," I said authoritatively, shoving him off me. He glared at me with red eyes. I pushed past him, attempting to clip my corset front back together when he grabbed my arm and pulled me back towards him roughly.

"Hey!" I cried as he pushed me to the ground, his hand around my throat. I gasped against his fingers, clawing at them wildly.

"Shut the fuck up, Selina. You're mine for the night. If you speak again, I'll punch you so hard you won't be able to see for the rest of the night. Then I can really do whatever I want with you."

I looked up at him with terrified eyes. I gasped for breath again as his fingers tightened around my neck. I tried to cry out for one of the other people in the room to help me, but no one noticed. He shook me as he saw me glance around and slapped me across my face. My cheek stung red.

"I mean it," he said with finality, his slicked back blond hair falling across his eyes. He finally released me and I gasped for air — only to gasp again as he forced my legs open and pushed himself inside me in one swift motion.

He pounded me hard and long as silent tears ran down my face. I had never felt so low. So powerless. I was only ever okay with this job because I always felt it was my decision to do it. I had the power because the men always wanted me and they had to work to get me, even in the smallest degree. But in this moment I didn't have a choice. I didn't have any power. And I had no means of escape.

"Get on your hands and and knees, kitten. Let me see you arch your back," he said gruffly. He roughly pushed me up and set me on my hands and knees. I could barely move my own body up. He wrapped his hand in my long, dark hair and pulled me back, forcing me to arch my back and face everyone else in the room. I heard him spat down to lubricate — then he forced his penis into my asshole in one painful swing. I cried out in absolute agony. I couldn't stay quiet. I didn't care if he punched my lights out. It's happened tons of times before when I was growing up anyway.

"Help," I sobbed to the room before me, my face red and hot, tears streaming down my face. No one turned my way.

"Ahhh AHH!" I screamed as he pounded me mercilessly from behind. "Ahh HELP! Help me. Stop STOP!" I screamed again into the room. A few men watching a group of girls in a pile turned my way. I made complete eye contact — but they just silently observed before turning away, ignoring my cries for help.

As Stuart continued, I tried to cry out again, but each time those rich bastards looked on, said nothing, did nothing, and continued with their own debauchery. They didn't even care. They didn't care. All that power, all that money. What do they care about? Themselves. No one else.

When I left that party alone and shivering around 4:30am, I also left the old Selina behind. The victim Selina. The powerless Selina. The Selina who lived her life just reacting to what happened to her. I didn't return to Madam Camille and I didn't return to The Bowery apartment. I chopped off all my hair. It was only a liability to me. I used what little money I had and caught a bus to Blüdhaven. I had heard of a dojo near the docks there. I watched the master and students practice all day, trying to learn the moves myself. The new Selina would be able to defend herself. I stole food and water from around the city easily, then broke in and slept and bathed in the dojo late at night. I did this for weeks until Sensei Kenshin finally caught me. As he chased me out he observed me leap, climb and contort my way out through the window closest to the ceiling. He called for me to come back.

I trained there until I reached the highest level in martial arts. I returned to Gotham determined to fulfill my new destiny. A destiny that rejected my former life of poverty and grovel work. I was going to obtain the life of wealth and riches that I always deserved — because lord knows Stuart Anderson and all the men like him didn't deserve it.

I don't regret growing up poor. It makes my newly-earned wealth actually mean something. I never take it for granted.

And the only way for a girl like me, "lithe and leggy Selina," to get riches was to take it. I knew I could do it, and I did. And now I'm the best. No one has ever caught me. No one.

"Catwoman."

I whirled around. Now on the rooftop after collecting my prize, I squinted into the inky shadows cast by the rooftop pool house. There he was. An unmistakable silhouette.

"Well, Batman. It's been awhile. Did you miss me?" I said with a cock of my eyebrow, hands on my hips.

He stepped out of the deepest shadows and into the moonlight.

"Put that back, Catwoman," he thundered. Straight to business, just like always.

"I don't think so," I said.

"Why do you keep coming back here?" He said, walking towards me. "You're just asking to get caught."

"And yet I never have," I said with a smile. I slyly tucked the figurine into a holster behind my back. I met him next to the shimmering pool, the moonlight bouncing off the water and illuminating us from the side.

"You're luck is going to run out. Trust me," Batman said in a threatening voice. I smirked at his hard-edged frown. I reached out and cupped his chin. Like always, he remained as still as a statue beneath my fingers. He never moved away, never moved closer. Always a stoic man.

"Don't be so serious, Batman. Dealing out justice is so much better when you have a little fun with it," I said while tracing his chin with a gloved finger. "You should try it some time." He narrowed his eyes at me, our faces inches apart. I couldn't help but stare at his mouth. It was a damn beautiful thing.

He snapped me out of it by suddenly gripping the sides of my arms. I felt my eyes go wide with his strong grip.

"What did Anderson do to you, Selina?"

I pushed myself out of his grasp.

"How do you know my name?" I glared at him. He just stared back at me. This wasn't fun anymore.

"You just love having power over people, don't you, Batman? You're always one step ahead, you always know what's going to happen," I said in a panic. I turned around so my back was to him. "Meaning, you always know how to ruin the fun."

"This isn't about having fun for me," he said gruffly, moving closer. I could see his shadow fall over me. "I have a job to do."

"Yeah," I said. "So do I." With that I bent my knees and whirled a double kick around to hit him across the face. He fell with a splash into the pool and I immediately took off running. We had such a good thing going too. I sprinted my way across the rooftop and used my whip to go to the next one over. I had almost returned to the urban section of Gotham when I heard a whirring behind me.

A rope snaked its way around my legs so I collapsed hard on the ground. I grimaced as my chin knocked against concrete.

"It's over, Catwoman!" Batman called from the other end of the rooftop. I grinned.

"That's the third time you've said that to me since we met, Bats." I flicked open my razor-sharp nails and cut through the rope in one motion. "I guess there are some things you can't predict." I got to my feet and leapt off the roof in a spin.

I watched Batman land on the deserted street with a gush of his wingspan-like cape. He glanced around, unsure of where I went. I couldn't help but smile. As he walked past the alley I was hiding in, I released my whip with a crack, flicking my wrist in such a way that it wrapped around his solid body. Then I tugged with all my strength. I leapt out of the way as he crashed into the solid dumpster behind me and slowly collapsed on the ground.

With his back against the dumpster and legs out in front of him, I straddled him around the waist quickly, my heart thrilling as the warmth between my legs met his. Him dripping wet also added another element of pleasure to the situation. The white eyes of his mask looked up at me, dazed.

"Come on, Batman," raising his chin so he had to look up at me. "Don't ruin a good thing."

I brought my lips down onto his. Like usual, he was a statue. I kissed him a few more times for good measure and was about to pull away — until I felt his lips part beneath mine. Heat immediately shot down beneath my legs as I gleefully pushed my tongue into his warm mouth.

I knew it. I would've had fun flirting with him whether he liked me or not, but this just confirmed my suspicions — and gave me hope for my career as Catwoman.

I held his face beneath my fingers as our mouths worked against each other steadily. His tongue intertwined with mine, and I couldn't help but push my petite body against his solid form. In that silent alley, all I could hear was our restrained breathing and soft grunts and groans — mostly from me until I finally felt a hardness rise from him beneath my legs. I stroked it, and he grunted in my mouth as a response.

That was my cue.

I bent over backwards and flipped up so I was on my feet. I looked beneath me to see Batman tied up, flushed in the face, erection throbbing and mouth glistening with passion. I smiled at my handiwork.

"Since you know who I am, I trust you can get that back to me, then?" I pointed to the whip currently wrapped around his wide chest. I laughed and did a front handspring to the top of the dumpster, leapt up to the fire escape and onto the roof without another look back.

I returned to my beautiful balcony with a soft landing. Took me a little longer than usual without my whip, but it was completely worth it. Gave me plenty of time to relive my first kiss with my nocturnal friend.

"Luna, come here baby!" I called out as I pulled off my cowl. I glanced around to see where she was. There she was on the bed — next to my whip, coiled up so nicely. And a note. I ground my teeth together. That bat.

Luna jumped up on my shoulder and purred against me as I grabbed the note roughly:

How about a trade? This for the figurine.

I immediately reached behind me to get the black opal feline figurine out of its holder. But there was nothing there. Did he…

I flipped the note over.

Since I already have it, I'll assume you accept.

— B

I crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room. I ran a hand through my pixie haircut and sat down on the edge of the bed. But then I smiled. He could have had me arrested. But instead he left a cute little note.

I stood up and grabbed the crumpled paper, smoothing it out with my fingers.

Maybe he does know how to have fun.