Claire wasn't sure if she was excited or coming down with something. Her stomach felt like someone was zip lining back and forth across it, and her limbs were a bit shaky, her skin a bit clammy. People enjoyed this feeling? Really? And why did she feel this way over fifty-something Jim Gordon with his thick-rimmed glasses and daddy-stache?

She closed her eyes with a shiver when his mustache crossed her mind. Last night's kiss on her doorstep had been the first time she'd felt its tickle in awhile, due to her purposeful self-torture. But it was worth the restraint. His training was progressing nicely, his overall demeanor more calm and controlled. She could tell he was stewing on some things— some he told her, some he couldn't— but he was becoming much more skilled in giving in and letting them go, at least temporarily, in the aftermath of their play. The discipline he was learning was certainly worth the sacrifice of uncontrolled pleasure, which is what she feared they would venture into if she didn't keep it in check. Their attraction to one another seemed to be off-the-charts.

The contents of her small closet stared back at her as she prepared for their date, presenting her with the question of whether to follow her heart and spice herself up, or follow her protocol and keep this casual. She held a fluffy pink towel around her as she thumbed through outfits, the clock ticking closer to seven. She really needed to hurry and decide; she had a feeling Jim was a rather punctual person.

Ding!

Claire hoped for a second he might be running behind so she'd have more time. Instead, his text message sent the zipliner in her stomach to a crashing halt.

Sorry, kid. Looks like a no-go tonight. I'm tied up.

She knew she shouldn't be disappointed. Jim had told her a big reason his marriage failed was his late nights at work and last-minute changes of plans. It came with the territory of being a cop's wife, but for some silly reason Claire had felt kind of immune, since he'd had so much free time with her so far. The Dent Act seemed a bit harsh and probably a slippery slope toward an uncomfortable level of authoritarianism, but it had certainly resulted in a more lighthearted atmosphere around the station. People actually saw their families and had somewhat of a social life again. But Jim was the big gun— it made sense he'd still be drawn away from time to time.

Wait a minute. Tied up? Claire's mind pictured him bound and at the mercy of one of the club's beautiful dommes. Wouldn't that be something? Claire thought with a bitter laugh. You kept pushing him away... maybe he didn't bounce back this time.

She told herself that was silly. She'd given him plenty of hope last night, hadn't she? More than she was comfortable with, to be honest. But it had felt right, Jim standing there so chivalrous and sexy, insisting on being her watchful protector from things that went bump in the Gotham night. She could get used to someone taking care of her like that...

Except it came with the very high price tag of this miserable feeling she'd barely ever known. Her sexual transactions had been so completely divorced from her emotions for sixteen years, the only other person to confuse them now a distant memory. Maybe Jim being "tied up" was the universe confirming that this just wasn't for her. But she was freshly showered and geared up for a night out, so she might as well have one. She threw on a little black dress and headed for the Asylum. It couldn't hurt to clarify what "tied up" meant, could it?

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Claire arrived at the club to the familiar hearty laugh of the most beautiful raven-haired woman she'd ever laid eyes on. The woman's luxurious dark curls cascaded backward with her exaggerated reaction to Zac's joke. When she caught Claire in her peripheral vision, her bold red lips pursed into a sly smile. Her chocolate orbs leveled with Claire's, and suddenly the disappointment over Jim wasn't so painful.

"Nancy!" Claire enveloped the woman in a hug, breathing in her intoxicating perfume. Her hands fondled the rigid structure of Nancy's emerald silk corset, instantly remembering her curves. Zac let out a snicker.

"The return of the only woman who can make Mistress Claire lose her cool," he commented, tequila bottle already in hand.

"What are you doing in Gotham?" Claire asked her excitedly, her breath coming out in small palpitations. Nancy was a fellow domme with everyone except her husband, a West Coast mayor who'd managed to tame her and convince her to relocate. Claire had learned many of her techniques from the woman, back when they ran together in shady back rooms of other nightclubs before Bruce opened the Asylum. They never chose to domme or sub with each other, instead cutting straight to sex- incredibly hot, raw, uncomplicated sex. With Nancy suddenly showing back up at the bar tonight, Claire was even more convinced the universe was telling her to slow her roll with Jim Gordon.

"Mi rey is meeting with your mayor about the success of the Dent Act," Nancy answered, chewing her cocktail straw adorably. "First of many mayors to come, I'm sure. Everyone is in awe of Gotham's seemingly clean streets."

Claire laughed. "Wait a minute, I didn't think El Rey was the biggest fan of clean streets..."

"Clean streets give him more room to make his own mess," Nancy clarified with a mischievous smile.

"Ask Mistress about her new boyfriend," Zac suggested, pouring tequila into a shot glass this time for the breathtaking brunette, who licked her salty arm and threw the shot back with an elegance no one else on earth could master.

"Mmm... oh yeah?" Nancy murmured. "I thought you'd sworn off relationships like a lifetime ago."

"And I think I still have," Claire said quickly. "He canceled our date tonight."

"Well I'm sure he had a good reason," Nancy offered kindly, her long fingers draping over Claire's bare knee as she leaned in. "No one in their right mind would cancel on you."

"He's the police commissioner," Zac disclosed in a hushed tone, and Claire shot him an angry look.

"Oh... taking advantage of those clean streets himself, huh?" Nancy said knowingly. "You always did have a thing for the crooked cop type."

Claire shook her head adamantly. "There's not a crooked bone in his body. He's the most honorable person I've ever met."

"Aww, isn't that sweet? Settling down with one of the good guys." Claire's former lover removed her hand, straightening back up at this news. She hopped off her stool and planted a kiss on Claire's cheek. "I'm going to say hello to some of the old crowd, sweetie. You have fun with your white knight, okay?"

Claire gave Zac another glare as Nancy sauntered off. The young bartender shrugged innocently.

"What? Nancy needed to get her claws off of you. I told JJ I had his back."

"Clearly not," Claire reprimanded. "You can't just announce his job like that, Zac. Especially to Nancy, of all people. You know anyone who messes with her husband's business ends up in about 72 little pieces floating through a sewer drain, right?"

"I kinda forgot," Zac said sheepishly. "She's so hot my mind sorta goes screwy. But we didn't tell her he's a club member, so technically I didn't break the NDA."

"Technically, you're a little turd," Claire spat back, then sighed. She wasn't happy about being right back at square one, alone for the evening. She scanned the room for prospects to keep her company. Normally she didn't have any trouble, but the familiar faces throughout the shadowy neon blue held zero allure, and she found herself turning to her phone instead.

She still hadn't responded to his text, not exactly sure the best way to do so. She didn't want to sound too upset, or needy, or anxious to reschedule. But she also didn't want to sound too cavalier or unaffected. They were friends, co-workers, and play partners too, and her hesitancy over dating didn't mean she was ready to give up the other things. Claire sighed.

"You know, the text message won't change no matter how many times you stare at it," Zac teased.

Claire cradled her head in her hands. "This fucking sucks, Zac."

"What does?"

"Feelings. How do you normal people manage it?"

"Well, I hate the word 'normal.' But in this context, I would say most of us started out in the kiddie pool... you know, passing notes, holding hands, hanging out on dates. So we get how this is supposed to go. You kinda skipped straight to the high dive. And jumped in with a fucking psychopath. So you gotta pay your dues now, sweetie. Enjoy that bittersweet heartache a little."

"What if Stan had lived?" Claire mused, downing the last sip of her drink. She drummed her nails thoughtfully on the bar. "You think we could have been something?"

"From what you've told me, Stan was always something. If he hadn't died in that explosion, the drugs would have killed him, or he would have pissed somebody else off. Maybe even enough to get you hurt too. But there's no point in wasting time on that when you've got a guy like JJ on his knees for you. He's the real Daddy, babe."

"Not grandpa anymore?" Claire teased.

Zac sent a couple cocktails flying to the other end of the bar before answering. "Haha, nope, not after seeing him hanging up on that cross for you a couple weeks ago. He's pretty hot... I mean, he's not me," Zac joked with a flex of his muscles, "but I'll give him Daddy instead of Grandpa. Now will you please text the man back?"

Claire took a deep breath and nodded. Something short and casual. How about 'Oh... too bad. Rain check?' Ugh. It sounded so desperate. Just as she was clicking the keys, Zac got her attention. She looked up to see Jim coming through the door, dressed in a nicer suit and tie than he'd worn to work earlier in the day. Her heart sank. So "tied up" really did mean tied up... with someone else. Here, at the club.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Jim's eyes fell on her immediately. No costume or glimpses of lingerie, just a little black dress, half of her dark blonde curls pinned up, her makeup natural. She looked wistful when she saw him— disappointed. Jim charged forward and tried not to let that bother him. He also decided that her appearance lent itself to Claire and not Mistress, so he'd take a gamble.

"Hello, Claire," he greeted her, slipping a hand around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You look beautiful."

Her eyes immediately darted around the room, stopping when they fell on a tall, slender brunette with big brown eyes and bright red lips. The brunette raised her eyebrows, and Jim noticed Claire send Zac a scathing look. The bartender lowered his gaze sheepishly and distracted himself at the other end of the bar.

"Hi, Jim," Claire finally replied. "Let's go outside, okay? Or wait... are you meeting someone? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed..."

Jim shook his head. "No. I just needed a drink after my meeting tonight, and this seems to have become my watering hole of choice, believe it or not." He smiled and offered his arm as she stood. He didn't tell her he'd also wanted to see if he'd find her there. He felt a bit pathetic, but he'd been worried when she hadn't texted back and had assumed she'd gone to the Asylum to find some alternative company. After seeing the odd exchange with the brunette now, he was still a bit uneasy. Ben and Zac had said she did scene with women as well.

"Let's get a drink somewhere else," Claire suggested quickly, her behavior certainly suspicious.

"Have you eaten?" he asked her. "I could still go for a meal if you're up for it." He glanced at his watch as they made their way back out to the dark alley. "Ten after nine. That Thai place still open, you think?"

She grinned and squeezed his arm. "Until ten. So I get a dinner date with you after all?"

Jim felt a wave of relief rush over him at her excitement. "Looks that way, kid. I guess it was just meant to be." He opened the passenger door of his car for her, and off they went across the bridge to East End.

"So what's good here?" Jim asked her, a bit overwhelmed by the large menu and detailed combinations of ingredients.

"My favorite is Tom Kha Gai," Claire informed him. "It's a chicken soup made with coconut and lime."

"Hmm, adventurous," he remarked with a smirk. "Something a little more boring for the old man, perhaps?"

"You could just do a stir-fry — beef, vegetables, white rice? The basil one's my favorite, if you want to experiment a little," she offered with a smile.

"Sounds delicious." Jim closed his menu and settled back in the booth, beaming like a teenage boy who had finally gotten the girl. He'd run through hundreds of questions he would ask her in preparation for the evening, but now that he was with her, all he could do was stare. It was a strange phenomenon— staring at the way the smooth skin of her collarbone flowed into her generous cleavage, her round globes on display beneath the taut, thin fabric of her dress. He'd touched them, kissed them, been buried by them— but they and everything else about her still excited him like it was new. The prospect of making love to Claire, not Mistress, had him uncomfortably hard and made it difficult to focus on anything else.

"Two Thai iced teas," Claire informed their server. Jim had been too distracted to even really register the man's presence. "And two orders of spring rolls. You like those right, Jim?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, that's fine."

Claire bit her lip with a smile as the server went away. "You okay there, Commissioner?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I feel like a teenage boy so distracted by his stiffy he can't put a coherent sentence together." He pushed his glasses up on his nose and grinned. "I didn't think this is how this night would end, but I'm glad it did."

Claire's eyes lowered to the table, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She almost seemed nervous, and Jim couldn't believe it. "Me too, Jim. But what happened with work? Assuming that's what it was?"

"The mayor's office called. Needed me to come down to meet with him and a visiting mayor from California. They were supposed to meet Monday, but this guy is a bit of a big shot and wanted the meeting the minute he got into town. Wanted to talk about the Dent Act." Jim grimaced. It was hard enough having to live the ruse about Harvey Dent for Gotham's benefit, but having to sing his praises for visiting officials made it even worse.

A flickering of concern seemed to cover Claire's face for a few seconds as she took a sip of the swirling, creamy beverage just delivered to the table. But the expression disappeared quickly. "I'm embarrassed to admit I thought 'tied up' might mean tied up with someone else," Claire said lightly. "I'm glad it was a work thing."

It took Jim a minute to catch her meaning, but then he chuckled. "I thought you were still trying to encourage me to see other people."

Claire shook her head shyly. "No, not anymore."

Jim felt like he would burst, but he tried not to show it. "What about you? Any companions this evening?"

"No. Just talked to Zac and said hi to an old friend."

"The brunette?"

"You're observant, aren't you?"

"I'm head of the Gotham police force, Claire. It comes with the territory."

She giggled. "Yes. Her name is Nancy. Coincidentally, I think you might have met her husband this evening. Watch out for him, Jim, okay?" Her tone turned serious, and suddenly things started to click.

"Big Shot Mayor, you mean? He did seem a bit too suave to have completely pure motivations. Do you know much about him?"

Claire shook her head. "Just that he's involved in some pretty big time stuff. Nancy is head over heels for him though. Zac...well, he kinda let it slip about us. He didn't reveal that you're a club member, but she did see you. I don't think it's a big deal, really, but I wouldn't want to keep something from you that could be important."

"Thanks," Jim said with a nod. He was honestly too pumped about tonight to give the matter any more thought, though he did make a mental note to dig around a bit on the visiting mayor. "Now what exactly am I drinking? Not sure this will do much for my nerves."

"It's a black tea with spices added, like cardamom. Then milk and sugar. It's amazing, trust me."

Jim took a sip and gave a nod of approval. "I like it. So... what are some of your favorite things, besides Thai food?"

She rattled off a list — dancing, plants, the color yellow, thunderstorms, constellations, the desert. "And most of all... rollercoasters," she added with a grin. "I'm obsessed. Do you like them? If not, it might be a deal breaker."

"Oh, really?" Jim laughed. "Lucky for me I think I can handle them. I had a rather interesting ride experience once a couple years ago... gave me a bit of a taste for thrill, I guess you could say."

"Oh, yeah? What was it?"

"I suppose you could say a stunt car, of sorts." He winked.

"I'm intrigued," Claire replied. "And I'm most definitely going to make you come with me on a coaster adventure someday. It's my dream to go to Cedar Point— basically the rollercoaster capital of the world."

"Where's that?"

"Near Cleveland."

Jim's heart skipped. "How about next weekend?"

"What? Really?"

The server brought their spring rolls and took their dinner order, and Jim nodded. "I'm supposed to fly to see the kids there next weekend. Maybe we could take Monday off and have our brains rattled at your amusement park?"

"Jim Gordon, take a day off?" she asked in shock.

"Another instance where you're worth it. Why don't I fly you out Sunday night? Unless you want to fly together and just hang out somewhere while I see the kids. Either way's fine. I don't think I need to tell them about you yet, though. Although Barbara's new fling will probably be there." He chewed on his spring roll dejectedly at the thought. It would be easier to stomach this Dan character if he had a gorgeous prize like Claire on his arm. But it didn't feel right to do that to the kids just yet.

"I understand," Claire said. "We need to know what we are before we bring your kids in on it. Sunday night sounds great. But you don't need to fly me out. I've got it."

Jim furrowed his brow. As Commissioner he knew her salary, and with what rent must be on her place in the Village, it wasn't enough for her to take off on a last-minute plane ticket. "Let me, Claire. I pay for our dates."

"Why?" she challenged.

"Because like it or not, I'm an old-fashioned guy."

"Compromise? You get the park tickets and I'll get my plane and hotel room."

Jim frowned again. He had hoped they'd be sharing a hotel. How many times had they fucked already? Why pay money for two rooms? But he had to remind himself again that only Mistress and Toy had done that... Jim and Claire were a slow burn.

"Deal," he finally answered as their entrees were delivered to the table. He had to admit she'd made a delicious choice, and it was nice to have vegetables on his plate again.

"So what about you, Commissioner?" Claire began. "What grand reveals do you have about yourself?" She lifted her soup spoon to her mouth, closing her eyes in appreciation of her coveted coconut lime broth. He had to admit he was curious— it was a rather orgasmic face for just a bowl of soup.

"I honestly don't have much to tell you," he admitted. "I spend so much time working— what you see is what you get."

"Hobbies? Interests? Besides BDSM clubs, of course." It was her turn for a wink.

"I like to watch old westerns," Jim said sheepishly, feeling his cheeks redden at how old and stereotypical that was.

"Oh yeah?" Surprisingly she didn't laugh. "What about music?"

"Sinatra. Big band. Yes, I realize how painfully accurate your friends are in calling me 'grandpa.'"

Claire laughed. "You've been upgraded to 'daddy' status as of this evening, I'm pleased to announce."

"I see. What about your music?" he asked. "What do you like?"

"I actually like classical a lot," she answered. "I don't know... it just makes my brain feel good, I guess. All the layers and the complexity and how it all weaves so beautifully together. And its ability to transport you somewhere else and convey emotion without a single word."

Jim reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "You know, it's good to have dinner with someone again. You take things like that for granted, until suddenly you don't have them anymore."

Claire seemed to study their clasped hands, and Jim noticed a lovely pink flush rise to her cheeks. It was incredibly amusing how intimate they'd been— yet in the real world, as their real selves, even something as simple as holding hands could cause such a thrill.

"Feeling adventurous enough to try the soup?" Claire offered.

"Yes," Jim nodded. "Anything that makes that beautiful face twist with pleasure like that must be worth trying."

Claire dipped the wide mouthed spoon into her bowl, making sure to get a bit of chicken, mushroom, and some green herb for him to try. She leaned forward and carefully lifted it to his lips, remaining in a hovering position while she awaited his verdict. His mind was only half focused on the taste, with the distracting line of her cleavage right there in front of his face.

"You had me until I chewed that green stuff at the end," Jim commented. "What is that? It tastes like soap."

"Cilantro," she laughed. "People either love it or hate it. I suppose we're not meant to be after all."

"Hey, I'll eat that weedy soap shit forever if it's that important." He grinned before slurping the last sip of the fancy iced tea. His belly was full but in that special, happy kind of way that made you tingle a bit. Leaning back against the booth, he let his legs extend outward until they brushed hers under the table. She met his gesture with a smile, and his eyes were drawn like magnets to her perfect lips as he watched her polish off the last of her soup.

His reverie was soon broken by the whirring roar of a vacuum, and he realized they were the only ones left in the restaurant. It was half an hour past closing time, and their server had begun a rather pointed exercise of cleaning up at the adjacent tables.

"I guess we need to call it a night then," Claire said, shouting to be heard over the vacuum motor.

Jim reached for his wallet and stuffed some cash into the leather envelope before shaking his head. "Nope. How about a walk?"

"In East End?" Claire asked incredulously. "You really are feeling adventurous."

"Nope again," Jim laughed. "Let's drive closer to your place, just to be safe."

"I don't think so," she said thoughtfully. "How about yours?"

Jim's arm tensed reflexively where it was linked through hers. "My hotel?" he asked wryly.

"No, your place," Claire answered.

He'd made a move to open her car door, but her hand on his wrist stopped him, and she used her petite but insistent body to press him to the metal.

"I don't think that's the best idea, Claire," he sighed.

"Why not?" she teased. "Is it that whole gentleman act? I'll make sure you behave."

Jim shook his head, his jaw tight. "I've only been there once in the last month. It just sucks."

"So let's start making new memories there," Claire suggested. "So you can see it in a new light. We'll take it slow. Just walk in, and you can give me a tour. Then we can go for a late-night walk. Is there a good spot nearby?"

"Yeah," Jim said, his mind slowly coming around to the idea. "I live in the Tricorner. There's a park just down the street. It's kind of a drive from here though."

"Perfect," Claire said with a smile. "I'm not ready to call it a night anyway, are you?" Her hand snaked up his shirtfront to rest against his chest. Jim felt her toy with his nipple a bit through the dark violet of his dress shirt. Mistress was clearly flirting with the idea of coming back, as Claire tried to coax him into doing what she wanted.

"No," Jim replied. "Not ready to call it a night." And he wasn't— ever. He never wanted to turn this woman loose. And he figured if he had to go back to his depressing memory pit of a house, it might as well be with her by his side.