Author's Note: Here's the second chapter by popular demand. Thanks for telling me what you thought about the last chapter, every review counts. Just a heads up to avoid any disappointment, there is NO, I repeat, NO sex in this chapter. It's building up to the next. Regardless...

Reader Discretion is Advised


Though much of her time, money, and effort was put towards maintaining wildlife preservations, it was a small habit of Selina's to go shopping every wednesday afternoon. She would cruise from store to store, browsing wares for either purchase or future theft, and take some much needed time to enjoy being herself: a high-class tigress with expensive tastes. The streets were relatively empty that time of day, save for a few of Gotham's pedestrians either out of work or skipping it, so she was never hindered by lengthy lines nor held up by argumentative patrons.

Humming a whimsical tune to herself, Selina let her eyes scan over a multitude of lonely windows, most of which held some form of jewelry. Rubies, sapphires, and emeralds all glimmered in the midday sun, winking invitingly, saying, "Come try us on." Selina withheld the temptation, but only for a very brief second.

She pushed through the entrance to Linda's, a fleeting exhalation of cool wind caressing her face as she did so. Selina's gaze flit about the room in its naturally analytical style, taking note of all the essentials: entrances, exits, and security safeguards. A pretty blonde woman, possibly Linda herself, stood behind a far counter with practiced poise. She took notice of Selina and offered a glowing smile, as well as a, "Good afternoon, Miss!"

Though the rest of her seemed elegance incarnate, the blonde's voice bubbled with surprising warmth, almost eerie in its happy tone; the sound was more fitting to a young, overzealous child. Still, to Selina it felt refreshing in such a tired old city.

"Good afternoon to you." Selina replied with her own measure of enthusiasm. She walked with short, purposeful steps, hoping to find a worthy article. From her place at the counter, the high-spirited blonde watched her customer, the first of the day and most likely the last. This part of Gotham didn't get many visitors, but the rent was just cheap enough to pay for by means of a good sale, however infrequent. Feeling slightly antsy, she spoke up.

"Is there anything I might be able to help you with, Miss?"

"Selina," responded the woman, before adding, "Is what you can call me."

"Can I help you at all, Selina?" Asked the blonde, her smile never slackening. Selina naturally progressed around the room at her own comfortable pace, giving not a word to break the rising tension; nearly a minute passed before the saleswoman decided to repeat herself with obvious trepidation. "Is there - Can I help?" Selina slinked forward with feminine grace, running a long fingernail over an ornamental display case. She was a mere two feet from where her new friend was frozen, close enough to make out the title on her perfectly adjusted nametag. Linda indeed.

"Linda," Selina exclaimed, as if she had made some monumental discovery. "Lovely to meet you." She made her way closer, outstretching a hand for Linda to shake; she did so, and soon enough the two fell into friendly conversation. "How long have you been managing this sweet little shop?"

"About a month now." Linda replied cheerily. "It's been kind of tough, gotta' say." Selina was surprised at how easily the blonde opened up to a complete stranger. "You have absolutely GORGEOUS eyes," Linda's face lit up, "Are you looking for something that matches?"

"Actually yes, I am." Selina laughed, unable to ward off Linda's infectious gaiety. "A piece that'll fit green, or complement it." Linda set about rooting through the counter's drawers for a color pallette, eventually finding one pertinent to the situation. She fanned the many swabs, presenting a chromatically mismatched arrangement.

"Red! Red plays off green excellently." Linda suggested, poking two cards to the forefront. There were many 'reds,' though none explicitly named as such. There was 'adobe brick' and 'african sunset,' 'friendly door' and 'firetruck.' Selina felt more as though she was choosing fabric than a gem, a bit overwhelmed by the numerous options.

"This one." She decided after after a short pause. Linda inspected her customer's choice, placing a pair of tasteful frameless glasses on the tip of her nose to help see.

"Hmmm..." The blonde tapped her chin, deep in thought. "I know! I've recently received some charming Mexican Fire Opals that I'm sure would look absolutely darling on you." And with that, Linda left to rummage through her stock in a loaded closet. "I'll just be a minute!"

"Can't wait." Selina purred, taking advantage of the short interval to look over several different inlays. A golden specimen caught her attention, its design exactly what she was searching for. Impossibly perfect. "My, my." She leaned in, fluttering the lacy collar of her teal sundress. "Aren't you just the cutest." If jewelry could blush, Selina's target would be doing so in abundance.

Before she knew it, Linda was back in a flash, cradling a small orange-red stone in her palm. She pinched it between two fingers in a fashion that caught the light wonderfully, turning it to examine every individual imperfection, of which there were few. Though Selina had seen many a jewelers, she had to admit that Linda's store, while small, was certainly impressive. The opal's contours seemed ideal for the piece Selina was previously looking at - another fine stroke of luck.

"May I see this one?" She asked, motioning towards the golden inlay. Linda promptly retrieved it from its 'velvet walkway' cushion beneath the glass and placed it square on the table between them. Selina couldn't help but giggle a tiny bit in excitement, leading Linda to follow suit.

"Do you have any interest in the subject?" Linda questioned, referencing the piece's unique design. Selina nodded.

"Oh, quite a lot."


In an abandoned stretch of Gotham on the opposite side of the city, Pamela Isley had set for herself a stringent goal: to stabilize the newly concocted Toxin W without any distractions. Her attention had never been a difficult thing to keep, but not recently. The tall glass panes of her greenhouse framed the streets beyond, those of which carried remnants of an earlier age, namely signposts and broken lamps. Not an inch was without some form of flora, taking on a spectrum of organic life during its time without maintenance. Ivy was doing quite well for herself, indeed.

If she was correct, and Pamela was eighty percent positive this was the case, Toxin W would come to serve as Gotham's endgame. No grown man dressed as a bat could stop her, and though she had thought this with utmost certainty in the past, something deep within had changed. Pamela felt a real confidence, no longer hollow with false self-assurances. She was ready to take on the new day, the glorious new day when Nature's uncompromising roots would finally strangle the life from those who had desecrated her purity. So yes, Pamela resolved to allow no distractions. Her work was far too important to neglect on trifling matters, such as the Catwoman-

-and what she was wearing right now. The curve of her puckering lips, so full. The swell of her breasts in the brilliant moonlight. That kissably delicious neck. The... the...

Toxin W! Pamela reprimanded herself for losing herself so easily to-

-those legs that went on for DAYS!

No! She snapped out of the warm haze long enough to regain her footing in reality. It was not long enough, however, to completely do away with a lingering want to pack things in early, curl up in bed with a good book she didn't intend to read, and attend to her needs. It had only been a single night, but that smouldering in her stomach had never left; Pamela came to learn that it was truly inextinguishable. The week spent in the Catwoman's absence had dragged on painfully, holed up in a dank shed devoid of the sun. Plants needed light. Pamela needed Selina, or rather, what she could offer. It was a stubborn truth, but one she forced herself to accept. The sooner her... urges... were out of the way, the sooner she could return to terrorizing Gotham.

Though Pamela's realization came at an entirely inopportune time, there was very little anger. Within her chest struggled a strong sexual frustration, trying without success to free itself. It yelled at Pamela to track Selina down, regardless of how embarrassing it would feel to proposition sex. This, added to the fact that their last encounter was less than consensual, made for quite a distressing scene. In its most quintessential form, the situation was as follows: Pamela was stuck in her dusty greenhouse, removed from civilization, and Selina was out in public, removed from Pamela.

She groaned, unable and unwilling to bring herself to finish Toxin W. Her train of thought had left the station. In front of Pamela on a dumpy looking table sat rows of unattended beakers, caked with grime, fizzing shades of incandescent green. If they had suddenly transformed into a cabaret troupe of neon radishes, she would not have noticed. In this abject loneliness, there was nothing to Pamela but Selina. She needed to taste her, grip her, drink her in until full. And she was going to, with time. Good thing there was quite a lot of that going around lately.

As she crossed the divide between her overgrown city block of territory and the scarcely populated road beyond, the spring green of her skin melted into white, her hair taking on a less attention-grabbing shade of light orange. Before leaving her self-proclaimed 'lair,' she had replaced her form fitting one-piece with a far less comfortable business suit, shoulder pads and all. The people of Gotham knew her by appearance alone now, and though flattered, Pamela was also inconvenienced. Happening upon Selina was a long shot, but a shot nonetheless, and, never being one to wait around, Pamela decided to take it.


Things'll pick up in the next chapter, I promise. ;)