A/N: Reviews are appreciated!
She'd learned a long time ago, and rather unpleasantly, that her body was an effective tool; strong and capable, lithe and fast, it also possessed an extra quality Selina had, on past occasions, used to her advantage. Her five foot seven inch and one hundred and thirty three pound personage was unquestionably feminine in shape.
For this reason, Selina had a love-hate relationship with her burgundy, floor-length sheath gown. The material hugged her curves just enough to set the male gaze wandering, but not enough that it left little to the imagination. It was, for all its simplicity, perfectly refined, perfectly elegant, and perfectly empowering. Too bad it made the old codgers and rich yuppies in the ballroom salivate over her more than they would have if she wore her usual turtle neck or business attire (which was, mind you, still not conservative enough to free her from the opposite sex's greedy eyes). Again, 'Twas a useful tool, but annoying for purposes of autonomy.
Her "date", she knew as he stood in the grandly adorned but dimly lit ballroom's entrance, would prove no different. Bruce Wayne was not one to mask his appreciation for the female form. However, unlike those men she so often scorned, Bruce would also move his gaze from her breasts to her green eyes, and then to the loose strands of hair which predictably had fallen to frame her oval face. He would put his arm around her upper back and comment on her small, dangling emerald earrings. Selina would laugh throatily and bat—bat…—his hand away as he playfully brushed the fallen hair off of her neck and pulled her ever so closer…
And then she would impishly push his face away as he leaned in to peck her on the cheek. It was a game, really, by this time. They played it only too well, and she knew it would begin anew the moment his eyes alit on her. Bruce was, withstanding his silver spoon, a man with a beautiful personality. A playboy, it was true, but a kind and honest gentleman, far better a person than she'd ever imagined—all those years ago—that an upper-class Gothamite could be. He would not scorn her for denying his advances, as serious as they were for all their levity, and she liked to consider him a good friend. Any moment now, those eyes would find her…
"Excuse me," came a voice from her immediate right. A hand landed on her middle back, and she turned to see a clean shaven, graying man, slightly shorter than she, wearing an old fashioned, black tuxedo. He smiled kindly, but a gleam in his eyes was predatory.
"Mr. Cartwright," Selina greeted warmly, cocking her head just lightly to the right, internally analyzing his motives. "How good to see you again."
"And you, my darling, and you," Cartwright replied, kissing her long, white hand. "Please, do tell me what you think of my little shindig." He chuckled and looked around. "We seem to have had a pretty good turn out."
Selina let her eyes wander the room, noticing that Bruce had been detained by the police commissioner, James Gordon. "Yes, it does seem so. I'm sure you've risen more than enough to help the police force afford their new equipment," she noted.
A waiter walked by at that moment balancing a tray of champagne flutes on one hand, and the older man commandeered two, offering one to Selina.
"Bollinger…" he muttered, smiling greedily. He held the flute to his nose and inhaled gently. "La Grande Année. Nothing but the best for my guests." He sipped. "Well, the best for such a quantity of people, anyway."
Selina didn't show her distaste for the night's primary benefactor. In fact, she smiled pleasantly and took a long sip of the brut, rose champagne. From the moment he'd began on his drink sections, Selina had devoted only a fraction of her concentration toward his pointless elaboration. Primarily, she let her mind wander toward a small but "priceless" onyx statue in the adjacent corner, and about how the ridiculous bounty she could get for it would be put toward a much nobler use than the statue was currently accomplishing as a piece to brag over in an old man's house. She began to plan such a heist in detail, her enthusiasm becomingly blushing her cheeks a color similar to that of her beverage. Cartwright, eyeing her critically, assumed the color caused by the alcohol, and moved his hand a little lower on her back. Selina, though visibly unaltered, snapped to attention.
"Perhaps you'd like to sample some of my private vintage?" Cartwright enquired. "Or, better yet, I have a single bottle of Diva Vodka I've been saving for just the right occasion. Perhaps you'd like to keep the pretty diamonds in the bottle?"
Everyone knew that Selina was new money, though the specifics of her rise within the aristocratic community were a subject of much debate. Her small fortune didn't compete with Cartwright's billions. His hand moved farther south, and Selina jerked, turning toward him with her eyes widened innocently. At last his game is revealed…
"Perhaps it would be something we'd serve at a little gala for those alley cats you're always so interested in saving, Ms. Kyle. Perhaps we could discuss as much in my private quarters, if you're so inclined…"
Selina knew that she could kick Cartwright's ass to Timbuktu. She was half tempted to make him regret laying his lecherous eyes upon her, but immediately saw an opportunity to make him squirm and took it gladly. But her games would hurt poor Bruce, Bruce who would forgive her…
"Oh, I don't know, Mr. Cartwright," she said sensually, smiling prettily. She laughed just a little too loudly and batted her eyes and leaned in closer, her chest nearing his. "I may need a little more of this excellent champagne before I would allow myself to indulge in something so…forbidden." Her voice sounded just a tad too innocent to be innocent, and Cartwright's mind was in overdrive. "Didn't you say that it was your only bottle?"
"Ah, yes, my darling, say no more," Cartwright hurried, waving over the champagne waiter again. Selina took another flute, placing her empty glass on the tray. "But what could be a union of such caliber…my prowess and your passion…should be celebrated, don't you agree?" His eyes widened as Selina downed the entire flute, and he grew visibly flustered. "Darling girl," he marveled, quite excited, "I think you'd better save yourself for something worthy of your magnificence." He took the empty glass from her, setting it on another passing tray and taking her left hand in his, his right hand still in dangerous territory. "Come, let's do discuss your charity privately…"
He led her through the crowd, and she tripped just a bit. Selina was a natural actress. As they reached the corner of the room, she saw Bruce turn from the commissioner, his big blue eyes landing on her and a strange look crossing his face as he noticed who held her hand in his. For only a moment, her dedication faltered. But then…
"Selina!" Bruce called, striding over smoothly but powerfully. His long legs quickly crossed the distance. He was a glorious sight, Selina admitted, in the signature black Armani suit. His hair was slicked back dapperly, and when he got close enough, she could just make out the hint of some warm, masculine sent.
"Bruce-y!" Selina exclaimed, swaying a little as she released Cartwright's hand and moved toward the younger man, a joyous expression on her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Bruce, lacing an arm around her waist, looked back and forth between the two confusedly. Poor Bruce, Selina thought, wore his emotions on his sleeve. She giggled innocently abet throatily, which Bruce knew was so out of character, and smiled blissfully. "Mr. Cartwright was just taking me to his private quarters to discuss a gala for my cause. He's even offered me a special vintage. Isn't that looovely of him?" Her sensual voice drew out the word. "But darling, you should come, too. Won't you?" She pressed her body against his, her hips pressing against his thighs, and instantly Bruce knew what was happening, or at least, he thought he did. Selina, he errantly realized, was drunk. Cartwright, he correctly realized, was taking advantage of that.
Cartwright's face paled, noting how closely Selina clung to Thomas Wayne's son, and he gauged the large man's less than pleased expression. "A-ah, Mr. Wayne!" he recovered. "I take it you know this young woman w-well." His neck began to sweat, and he pulled at his collar. Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"We were just on our way to discuss a charitable venture. Perhaps you would be interested in—"
"My date and I were just getting ready for a dance when we got separated in the crowd. Thank you for returning her to me." Bruce's words were pleasant, but his gaze burned. "Selina?"
"Hmm?" She mumbled, tracing her finger against his tux's lapel.
"Are you ready to go, darling?" He held her a little more tightly, and ran a large hand over the back of her hair. Selina, a little surprised, felt her former discomfort, but ignored the feeling she'd taken her little game with Bruce too far. Perhaps he wouldn't know this time, wouldn't understand the interplay between them…
"Oh, yes, love," she purred, but then turned her wide, innocent eyes toward Cartwright. "But about my gala…"
"I think Mr. Cartwright would be more than happy to arrange a meeting with you through my secretary some time tomorrow," Bruce said good-naturedly, the threat evident to Cartwright but masterfully contained. "I know that he is quite the lover of animals. Perhaps we can work together on such a project, sir?"
"Of course!" Cartwright bolstered, gratefully latching onto such an action, regardless of how unintended and expensive, as a way out of this socially homicidal predicament. Cross Bruce Wayne in such an uncouth way, being blatantly discovered taking advantage of a lady… "I-I shall have my secretary call yours, Mr. Wayne! But, if you will excuse me, I do believe I see the old general cavorting with my business associates…" He slipped away as fast as decorum would allow.
Bruce looked around and then down at Selina, who was holding onto his lapel's rather tightly as she thought her actions through. She would have been better off telling the libertine what was what herself, but what was a swift rejection compared with the fear of potential social humiliation for a man like him?
"Selina?" Bruce asked tentatively…
"Please tell me you don't treat women like that, Bruce Wayne," Selina said, quite normally. She met his eyes, green on blue, and swallowed her shame. Bruce would forgive her. Bruce would understand her motivations.
"Please tell me you don't take advantage of a woman like she's a piece of meat," she continued.
"I assure you," Bruce said, seriously, "that my past has been nothing but consensual." Selina looked up a tad worriedly, relaxing when she saw he reflected nothing but good humor about the whole ordeal.
Selina slapped his chest insolently and moved to stand beside him. "I know we've only just arrived here, but I want nothing more than to be gone."
"I'm known for making brief appearances. You're my date; let's get out of here," Bruce offered, surveying the mass of people. "We can let them speculate." He chuckled. "I'm sure they already are."
There was a pause. "What about the charity auction?" she asked, looking up at him.
Bruce avoided eye contact. "I've already spoken to Jim about a private donation."
Oh, but she wanted to be gone. And she had better things to do that night than watch richer people than she bid on objects she could never afford...
"I'll accept that offer," Selina said, taking his arm. "Let's go, playboy."
Bruce ushered her toward the coat room and, retrieving their items, escorted his date out of the front doors. A few moments later, the valet had Bruce's black Aston Martin purring before them, and they were off.
As Bruce wove their way down the winding hills and toward town, Selina sat quietly, noticing for the first time that Bruce's pleasant expression seemed just a little forced. In her peripheral vision, she examined closely the set of his square jaw. Yes, definitely forced. Unexpected guilt flooded Selina's primarily impenetrable conscious, but she didn't know what to say, so she simply remained silent.
Bruce parked the car next to her luxurious apartment complex and, halting the doorman, strode around the car to open his passenger side door. Taking Selina's hand, he gently helped her to her feet and asked if he could escort her to her front door. She politely declined, finding it just a bit harder to look him in the eye. Bruce laid a hand on Selina's shoulder.
"I'll call you tomorrow if Cartwright actually gets ahold of me. Maybe you'll get some help for your cause out of this after all."
He was so, so kind. When he was gone, all Selina could do was think…
What have I done to Bruce?