Eyes Wide ...
Gotham - Clark's Apartment
Selina Kyle had the ability of making men unsure of themselves. All women do to some extent, but Selina had it down to an art. Whether they were rich, poor, powerful or just ordinary, it didn't matter. Something about her just unsettled men. She liked it that way. Most of those that had met her would describe her as morally ambiguous, and especially the men associated her with a sense of mystification and unease. Some would use an old fashioned way of putting it by saying she used her 'feminine wiles' such as beauty, charm, and sexual allure to get what she wanted. This was only partly true.
Beauty only gets you so far if its not backed up by brains. She had grown up on the meanest streets in the worst part of Gotham. Chronologically she was the same age as Clark, yet like with Dinah, her 22 years pack more into them then his 22 years had. Where she was from, you grow up fast or you might not grow up at all. Selina learned early on all women need to known how to protect themselves, especially the pretty ones. If they didn't, it meant being forced to rely on others. Nothing came free in Gotham and protection had its price. Even as a young girl, Selina knew she didn't want to pay it. She used what she had to carve a place out in this world, on her own terms.
The newest tenant in her building had certainly caught her attention when he helped Melinda. That he'd called her ma'am amused her. That he was young, tall and rather good-looking interested her. A few discrete questions to that overly sweaty weasel Jerry and Selina knew a little more about Clark Kent. That he was a farm boy newly arrived in the big city made her smile. That he was in Gotham to start his career as a reporter didn't. Selina wasn't particularly a fan of reporters, but they had their uses.
Like the felines Selina was so fond of, she could be a bit territorial. The scientific name for this among humans is Territoriality. It is associated with nonverbal communication that refers to how people use space to communicate ownership or lay claim to a certain area. According to the experts, men tend to go into women's spaces more than women enter men's spaces and typically have a stronger sense of ownership and are more likely to challenge others' boundaries.
That was not the case for Selina. Perhaps that was part of the reason she made people uncomfortable, especially men. She had no problem challenging their boundaries and even rattling their cages now and again. That was the primary reason she was here, in Clark's apartment. She wanted to see what the neophyte to the big city was made of and perhaps have a little fun with him.
Selina smiled at Clark and then moved over and sat down on the left side of the couch.
"Why don't you sit down, Clark and we can get to know each other?' She said, patting the place next to her. She crossed her legs, her already dangerously short dress slipping just a bit higher.
"Not much to tell really," Clark replied after clearing his suddenly dry throat. He carried the box of sugar into what passed as the living room and set it on the table in front of Selina. He glanced at her hand, as she gave the seat next to her another playful pat and then took one of the chairs opposite her. He noticed her smile got a little fuller.
Clark wasn't sure what to make of the young woman sitting across from him. Short dark hair framed her features. The word that came to mind to describe those features was exotic. Watching the way she moved when she entered his apartment reminded Clark of a gymnast. The dress and what it barely concealed made him think of a gymnast that had filled out a little too well for the uneven bars. That thought and her steady, sensual gaze made him feel a bit uncomfortable. He had a feeling that was her intention.
He lifted the box of sugar and held it over the teacup she's brought with her. He was a little surprised that his hand was still steady.
"Don't want to forget your sugar,' he said. "Just say when."
He began to slowly pour the sugar into the cup. Selina sat forward closing the distance between them, watching him but not saying a word. Clark found himself looking from the slowly filling teacup to her and then back to the teacup. He continued to pour the sugar, but she remained silent. The apartment suddenly felt a little oppressively warm, as the only sound was the steam of sugar pouring from the box. The sugar was almost to the rim of the teacup, yet she still hadn't said anything. When it was just about to overflow, Clark stopped and set the box down on the table.
"I didn't say when, Clark."
"Your cup was about to overflow,' he replied. "I didn't want the sugar to go to waste."
"Who said it would go to waste? I'm sure if we really thought about it we could come up with some other interesting uses for it,' Selina offered. As if to demonstrate, she leaned forward, closing the distance between them even more and slowly dipped her finger into the teacup, then brought it up to her mouth. Just the end of her finger slipped between her full lips for a moment and he thought he saw the tip of her tongue flick against it as she slipped it back out. "Don't you agree, Clark?"
Clark thought he felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his face as he watched all this. She definitely seemed to be enjoying making him uncomfortable, he thought. He realized now that making him uncomfortable was the point of all of this. Perhaps if he hadn't already been on a date with another gorgeous woman tonight, he might have reacted differently. He might have imagined he had a shot with Selina. The fact that this stunning young woman he'd never really met before shows up at his door dressed like that, was like something about of a Penthouse Forum letter. It was a little too good to be true.
Clark might only be from a small town in the Midwest, but he knew when someone was playing with him. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them just as she had a moment earlier. He held her gaze with his.
"So is this the part where we get to know each other?"
"What do you think?" She asked.
"I think you're setting me up for a long cold shower,' he replied.
Selina laughed. It was a genuine laugh and she seemed younger in the moment.
"You think so, huh? I might surprise you,' she teased.
"Of that I have no doubt."
That he hadn't gone to pieces like most young men she met pleased Selina. That he seemed to know she was trying to manipulate him intrigued her.
"Where did you say you're from, Clark?"
"I didn't,' he replied, the offered. "Smallville."
"Seriously? Is that even in the United States?"
"Kansas."
"So just barely,' she said with a teasing smile.
"Well, it's not Gotham, but we all have to be from somewhere, don't we?"
Thinking of where she'd grown up, Selina sat back as the smile slipped a bit.
"Yes, I suppose we do." She looked at him again. He felt like she was evaluating him or reevaluating him. Clark wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
"So why come to Gotham?" She asked.
"A job,' he replied.
"As a reporter,' she added.
"Yes. How did you know that?"
"It doesn't take much to get Jerry to spill his guts,' she informed him.
Clark let his eyes slowly take her in from her slender ankles to her alluring eyes.
"Yeah, I can see how that would work." He replied.
"So have you come to the big city to write all about how corrupt it is?' She mockingly asked. "Are you one of those reporters, Clark? The kind that wants to show how evil and wicked Gotham is and try and exposed it?"
"I've only been here two weeks,' he admitted. "So far my job has been little more than a glorified gopher at the magazine. I think the evil and wicked Gotham is safe for now."
"You should keep it that way, you'll live longer."
"I don't know," he replied. "If you see corruption and evil aren't you obligated to do something about it?"
Selina gave a small, dry laugh.
"The Gotham Gazette has had a lot of reporters that thought that way over the years, Clark. Some of them even have plaques in the building's lobby on what they call the wall of heroes. You know why they call it that, Clark?"
"No."
"Cause they're all dead,' Selina explained. "That's what happens to heroes in this town. Two weeks, two years, two decades, it doesn't matter, Clark, if you're not from Gotham you'll never understand it. You seem like a decent guy, so take my advice, get out now. Go back to Tinytown and marry your high school sweetheart. Have a family and a life. Forget about Gotham, country mouse, they play a little too rough for your kind."
"It's Smallville." He corrected her. "Kansas."
"Does it make a difference?" She asked.
"It does to me."
"It doesn't in Gotham,' Selina replied.
Clark had been running up against this attitude almost from the moment he got off the bus. He was from the part of the country the people on the coasts referred to as FlyoverLand. He'd heard it in everyone's voice since he'd arrived, that condensation and judgment. It said without having to say it that you were a hick, a rube or a hillbilly and you couldn't possible understand what things were like in the sophisticated modern world of the big city on the coast, like Gotham.
He knew he had some catching up to do; anyone would in a new place. He was just tired of people telling him it was hopeless and he should go back home. He was young and had a bit of pride, so when Selina openly challenged him, he fired back.
"You're probably right, Miss Kyle, I'll never know Gotham as well as you do,' he said. "I've only been here two weeks. I don't even know half the names of the streets around here, but I don't believe the people are that different. Bullies, thugs and scared people aren't something that's exclusive to Gotham. Rich and poor people aren't either. I'm not rich and I've had to work to get where I am. That probably makes me like a lot of people around here, just trying to make a living and pay my bills."
Clark paused for a moment. Selina didn't interrupt him, just sat listening.
"I might not be from here, but I have eyes and ears,' he said, continuing. "I don't think you have to be from Gotham to see what's going on. I'm living in an apartment right in the middle of it. The people that live in those big mansions on the other side of town, they've lived in Gotham all their lives, but whole parts of this city are just images on the news to them. I may not understand yet, but my eyes and ears are open. That's more than a lot of people that have lived here can say."
Selina sat and looked at him for a moment. With a sigh she slowly stood up. Clark joined her.
"You're not a coward, Clark, I saw that on the stairs when you helped Melinda.' Selina finally said. "A lot of fools aren't cowards, though. You say your eyes and ears are open, but you have no idea what you're already involved in, do you? Those two guys putting the squeeze on Melinda, they work for Carmine Falcone. I can see you've never heard of him, have you? It's not knowing who he is and people like him that will get you killed. Those rich people across town you spoke of? The might not know what's going on down here, but they know who Carmine Falcone is. They know the hundreds of other crazy, sick, twisted bastards to avoid that you have no clue about. They might be cowards hiding in their mansions, but they're not fools."
Selina picked up the teacup and moved towards the door. As she opened it, she turned and looked at Clark one last time.
"Fools die in Gotham, Clark, don't be one of them,' she said. "Thanks for the sugar."
Without another word, she closed the door and was gone.