Maybe it was the way those suits wrapped around his broad shoulders... suits tailored to fit a frame only G-d himself could lay claim to... How else do you explain his hold on me?
From nights when those immaculate fingertips molded me, to nights when they didn't touch me at all... I was captive. Enamored...
Now don't get me wrong, the others have been... good...
Fingering the tiny clasp of a holster... sliding it off cold hard backs... The power to ease the guns away... Yes, there have been very good men in my life... But I could always walk away when I wanted to.
If it's up to the two constant men in my life to have something in common, it's the way they've got me sticking it out.
That damn Bruce rushing up to my brownstone, the way his coat flapped in the wind, his hat tipped back on his head, his eyebrows raised. He seemed so resigned then, and he played his cards right, he knew to look sorry when he needed to... But something irks me... His eyes... They were dead. Dead like I've only seen in Stark's eyes...
I know that it was cold out that morning what with it being January and everything, but I don't think that's what it was. It was as if he'd spent his night playing a reel of the most horrific things his mind could come up with... And wasn't it like me to let him back in?
The breakfast was good that morning. Yea I had a spread out on the table, rolls, juice, eggs, the usual... We let the cats have it...
The next few evenings I spent wrapped in my new stole and Bruce's arms. What can I say? It was classic. He wined me, dined me, roses just because... Early morning phone calls... It was as if we'd just started seeing one another again...
Except we never did all of that. He always gave me his time, his attention, right down to the last detail... That's where those hands of his come in. Hm. No flowers, no chocolate, nothing goofy like that.
So maybe I shouldn't have been surprised when I couldn't reach him by Valentine's. He didn't know how to get back to that place again so he just went by the old standby routine. Like any number of those old girlfriends of his. Buy them a tennis bracelet and maybe they'll shut up.
I guess packing was the hardest part. Not finding someone to take on the brownstone and the cats no. I put the house on the market under an assumed name through a realtor a good friend of mine uses. I had a buyer in about four hours. Then it was down to hiring the storage company and buying a plane ticket and I was on my way to Italy.
I wish I could have seen Bruce's face when he read the letter, though I'm sure that if I had I would still be in his arms now.
Here in Italy it's back to the same old routine where the gun-toters are concerned. I'll admit there are certainly some handsome characters around here, and I don't think it would be that hard to "buddy" up to anyone like "Blondie" for instance. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss them.
Bruce... Batman...
If Bruce was being a naughty boy I could always count on stirring up a little excitement with Batman, even if it simply meant having someone else to focus my energy on for a change.
Have you ever gone through the trouble of setting up a false B & E just because you knew a certain somebody would show up? And it was like clockwork.
I think my favorite part is seeing just how much ground we can cover and how long it takes. My personal best is one hour, seventeen minutes. My favorite spot we've tangled past so far is this giant poster for the movie "His Kind of Woman." Need I say more?
I don't even think he notices those sort of things, he has such a one-track mind. But me? My eyes catch so much. Not just the nicks in his belt or that tear in the suit from who knows where on the right side of his torso, but the color of the sky or the pace of his breathing... Just knowing it's taking everything in him to keep this strictly on the level.
He's so cute when he's stubborn.
I guess they both are. But Batman's so... strong, and he's not the gentlest man who's ever touched me. Bruce always holds me like I'm a porcelain doll, so careful and orchestrated, almost like he's measuring himself out to me. Or perhaps it's the other way around. Maybe he's instructed himself that he's only to take a teaspoon of me at a time. Ah.
I can't say I like kissing either one any more than the other, but there's something to be said for the Bat's ability to play hard to get. At least I know Bruce wants me even if he doesn't necessarily see that as a reason to want me around. Batman seems to be the other way somehow though I'm not sure why exactly.
I guess in the end it's down to me lying here in bed replaying images in my mind. G-d knows I didn't really want to leave, but I had to, and now I just have these:
Batman hanging upside down trying to hide that smile from me, my lipstick left behind in four delicious kiss stains around his mouth. I think that's my favorite memory of him. But I must admit he's not very good about his Valentines either. I merely offered him a chance to take of the masks and share our secrets... Of course he said no. He and Bruce should start a support group. I would be willing to pay for the first year no problem. Especially if it meant either of them would get their acts together...
Oh well. Guess for now it's just me and Italy. I wonder if The Blonde does dinner dates. Those gun-toting types have always been good for a night on the town and a pair of holsters to slip off...