"Hello legs!" A sensual voice purred from the shadows. Vicki Vale turned around. She had been working late, VERY late, and everyone else had gone home. Gossip Gertie had left after lunch, no doubt to chase the latest scoop. Bob the Cartoonist rarely came in any more, and Alexander Knox? Well, Knox was Knox? Vicki was glad to have a break from Knox's overcologned attempt at flirtation, even if his Robert Wuhlian gumption was not without its charm. Now though, she was the only one here, and the hallowed bullpen of…shoot, what's Gotham's paper called? The hallowed bullpen of The Gotham gazette was eerily empty, Vicki's dim desk lamp the only illumination in a large Art Deco inspired press room filled with shadows and night's creeping silence.
"Is someone there?" Dumb question. Someone was there, and had commented on her legs. It was a compliment Vicki was used to getting. She did, after all, have a delicious pair of gams, and was not adverse to showing them off. I just realized that Kim Basinger needn't be my only point of reference. She was certainly sexy in All Star Batman and Robin, as overbearingly post-Sin City Frank Millerian that particular title was. So I think I'll use her lithe body, pink panties stretched tight across an ample buttocks. She was wearing those same panties right now, under the skirt she was wearing when Knox first saw her. Vicki hiked up her skirt, revealing more of her creamy white thighs. If someone was looking at her legs, they might as well get a show. (Ok, that's stupid, but it's pretty hot too.)
"Not there. Here." Catwoman said as she jump crawled (uh, she was very graceful) onto Vicki's desk and arched her back like a cat, offering a poised look at her leather covered backside. If Vicki was one to jaw drop, her jaw would have dropped. Catwoman stunned, the epitome of feline feminine leather bondage attractive comic book hot dominatrix sex appeal.
"Catwoman!" Vicki said obviously. "What are you doing here?"
"I've been reading your stuff." Catwoman said, flipping around, her butt sitting on Vicki's desk, her leather clad legs dangling down. In all honesty, Black Canary might have better legs, but would you complain?
"I'm reading yours." Vicki responded, her eyes feasting on all the skin tight leather flesh six inches away. But feasting on flesh in a lesbian way, not a cannibalistic way. "Must be hot." She flustered "In all that leather, I mean."
Catwoman smiled a suggestive smile. "I know what you meant." She licked her leather finger for some reason. "It's hot tonight. But not as hot as the night that Falcone guy got married."
Vicki fingered the buttons on her blouse unconsciously. "You're not here to talk about the weather." She had unbuttoned the top buttons, offering just the faintest peek of that pink bra I was talking about earlier.
Catwoman took out her whip and put it around Vicki's back. Vicki was frozen in arousal. Catwoman pulled Vicki in her chair closer to the desk and leaned forward. Their faces were inches apart. Vicki was mesmerized by Catwoman's cherry red lips. She could feel her breath on her face. "I want you to do a piece on me."
Then they made out and stuff. And it was hot.