Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, this hero shit ain't cheap.
Luke Cage learned that the hard way.
Power Man, Ace of Spades, Harlem's very own hero. Well respected and regarded in his community, someone who was dedicated to cleaning up crime, and being a staple of the neighborhood.
Unfortunately for him, he was broke.
Before he made the choice to dive in head first into the hero work, Luke got by working a slew of odd jobs, so he didn't have much in the way of savings, and neighborhood vigilantism didn't exactly pay beyond a grateful citizen buying him a sandwich, Chinese food if he was lucky. In fact, being a hero seemed to generate expenses that he had not foreseen.
Namely, the litigious criminal. AS it happened, clotheslining a would be purse snatcher and breaking both their collar bones, circumvented things like habeus corpus and Miranda rights. Which left Cage subject to insurance claims, lawsuits, and a whole manner of things he couldn't afford - lawyers weren't cheap, and with the volume the suits were coming in, no one would take him probono.
Thus, the 'Hero for Hire" was born.
The announcement, naturally, got a mixed response, people thinking he was selling out, thinking he was tarnishing what it meant to be a hero. Well the meaning of hero didn't pay his bills or get him the 6000 calories a day he needed to maintain himself. It started off slow; public appearance here and there, security for b-list celebs; perhaps it wasn't dignified, but neither was being homeless, and Luke knew which of the two he preferred.
Things, more or less, worked out for a few weeks, getting by, but he wasn't exactly thriving. He still wanted to protect the people of Harlem, but his attention was getting divided by all these odd jobs. He needed something steady, reliable, that would still give him the time he needed to be Harlem's savior.
He needed-
. _
Felicia Hardy was very, very meticulous about her craft.
A Heist was, in a manner of speaking, rocket science; having to account for every possible detail, integer, and necessitating knowledge of a fair amount of chemistry and physics. And Black Cat was a certified genius in the craft.
Felicia Hardy, however - by design, she was the polar opposite of her nightly persona. "The Hardy Heiress" as the media liked to call her. The young, sexy, white haired bimbo that was always out drinking and partying, and as far as fronts went, it was perfect. Why would a rich girl who wanted for nothing go through all the effort to pull off intricate heists - even the cliché of rich girl kleptomaniacs had its limits. Her two identities protected each other, and never shall the two lives meet.
At least, that was the idea.
As with rocket science, even the precise science of being a thief could end in…unforeseen results.
These results happened to be in the form of two burly mobsters who were on her block.
Felicia was not new to running afoul of various mobsters and criminals - they were some of her favorite people to rip off, but they weren't the kinds of guys you wanted milling about your residential block. She had been careful, careful as she could be, but even she didn't foresee Dimitri - whatever his name was -investing in high-tech heat signature technology, the type that could hold a specific heat signature for miles, an internal tracking device. Luckily for Felicia, the technology had its limitations as it was still in prototype, but it brought undesirables to her block. Even more lucky for her, they didn't seem to know what building she was in, and they didn't have the man power or authority to search the numerous high-rises of her high rent district. Still, they knew more about Felicia than she cared to share. She'd be lying if she said it didn't spook her.
Now, the smart money might've laid low for a while, until the heat died down, but Felicia was a Black Cat, not a scaredy one. No, all she needed was an extra set of eyes. While she already had a pretty suped-up security system in her penthouse, she needed a more - HUMAN touch. A bodyguard. She, of course, could take care of herself, but she needed more of a guard dog on two legs than anything, someone who didn't necessarily understand the 'why' or from 'whom' they were protecting, but would bark and raise the alarm all the same. Plus, it would add to the helpless heiress persona she was putting on
Her resource assured she had the best candidate pool: Former military commandos, professional fighters, mercenaries, all available, but all so…typical. Sure, they were all adequate, but something was missing, something that she couldn't put her finger on.
"Ms. Hardy." Her assistant said, peeking through the door of her study. "Next candidate is ready."
Felicia sighed. She had been vetting potential candidates all afternoon. "Let me guess, a Green Beret with 8 purple hearts."
"No actually." Her assistant noted. "This one's actually from the civilian sector, and he's a bit famous, at least uptown."
Felicia's eyebrow quirked in curiosity.
"Who?"
"She'll see you now, Mr. Cage."
Luke nodded his head politely, and stepped into the large study. The room by itself was bigger than his apartment. He had heard about Felicia Hardy in passing, seen her on social media and tabloids. He couldn't imagine why someone like her needed, as the classified put it, "Elite" security, but he was more interested in "competitive pay" that was advertised. She sat on the far side of the room, behind an expensive looking desk. She was staring at him, and beaming.
"Uh, Hello." He greeted, waling into the room and sitting in the chair in front of the desk. He wasn't sure how to dress for these sorts of things, so he had borrowed a suit from the Big and Tall store - he saved the owner from a burning car. "I'm-"
"I know EXACTLY who you are, Luke Cage." Felicia said, standing suddenly. "Your reputation precedes you."
'Yours too. Luke thought as Felicia walked around her desk, revealing the very nonprofessional, scandalously short pencil skirt she was wearing, one which ended high on the thigh and left very little to the imagination of her curves. Luke forced himself to maintain eye contact, dragging his eyes upwards to her face, which, in the process, he noticed she wasn't wearing a bra under her expensive blouse.
"Tell me," She continued, standing in front of him casually, "What the Hero of Harlem doing all the way downtown?"
"Downtown is where the money is." Luke answered briskly. "Truth be told, being a vigilante don't pay a lot - or at all. Can't be a good hero if I'm out on the street."
"So that brings you to my office?" She replied, tilting her head to one side and smiling.
"Well, you're hiring. An acquaintance put me on that you were looking for some protection."
"Protection, ha!" Felicia laughed, throwing her head back. Luke arched a curious eyebrow at her. "I don't know what your acquaintance told you, but I'm not the president's daughter. I just need a big body to stand around me while I go out, party - keep the peanut gallery at bay."
"Hm." Luke noted, eyeing her in a completely professional manner. "Then, if you don't mind me askin' why all the heavy hitters? Saw some of the other candidates. If they all got together, they could probably take over a small nation."
Felicia just shrugged, "Buy expensive now, and I won't have to shop around for a replacement. Need something that'll last, and I can't think of anyone who can last as long as a bulletproof man."
Luke pretended not to hear the double entendre. "You make it sound as if I already got the job."
Felicia's eyes glimmered at him
"Wait, really?" He asked, surprise evident on his face. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." She nodded.
"Don't you need to go over my resume - references and all that?"
"I watch the news, That's the only resume I need. You DO want the job, right?"
"I mean…. I'm just surprised, is all." Luke Cage admitted. It all seemed too good to be true.
"Well, to help you make an informed decision, perhaps you should look at the salary and benefits." Felicia said, reaching onto her desk and grabbing a manila folder, before tossing it into Luke's lap. He opened the folder and scanned the paper. His eyebrows shot to the middle of his bald head.
"When do I start?"
And like that, Luke Cage was gainfully employed - a W2 and everything. With the amount of money he was making, he was able to get a new apartment, one fit for a man his size, and a wardrobe that consisted of more than yellow shirts.
Felicia was a surprisingly good boss, or rather she was low maintenance, Sure he was at her whim, but the young woman, more or less, did her own thing, which consisted of shopping, lounging, and typically not having a care in the world.
When they were first seen together, people talked, of course.
Heiress' new bulky babysitter - Luke Cage and Felicia Hardy, seen together walking out of the Louis Vutton store
That headline tickled Luke a bit - otherwise weren't as benevolent, but he was used to that. People who thought he was a sell out for working odd jobs and making appearances sure had a lot to say now, but they weren't paying his bills They were an odd pairing for sure: Him - being 6'4 of solid muscle, bald head and decked out in his new and expensive grey suit, and her - the little 5-foot-nothing, young, spunky thing who's sexy bits bounced and jiggled as she walked, and despite her clothes leaving her half naked, they were still more expensive than his.
They were quite the pair, but in the days since his hiring, Luke came to appreciate the young Felicia - he never claimed to be the best read of people, but he could tell was more clever than she let on.
One day he was playing chauffeur for her, which he learned quickly was about half the job. He was up front in the Escalade that she picked out, and she was in the back, chatting on the phone loudly and animatedly, surrounded by shopping bags. It was hard to keep his eyes on the rode. Every time he looked in the review view, he was met with the pleasant, but distracting image of her tits stuffed in a much too small crop top, bouncing around with every laugh and every bump of the rode, but still he managed. At least he THOUGHT he did, until he was suddenly getting lit up by blue and reds.
"Dammit." He sighed, pulling the car to a stop.
"Problem?" Felicia asked, still on the phone.
"None at all." Luke assured, rolling down his window as the officer appeared.
"License and registration please" The cop said as he rolled up to the window, sunglasses still on. Luke looked down at his badge, Officer Simpson. Luke grabbed his ID from his wallet, and registration from the glove department.
"Mind If I ask why you're stopping me?" Luke asked as he handed over the documents.
"You were riding the solid yellow lines." Simpson responded languidly. "Also, your tint is a little dark."
He looked at Luke's ID, and his eyebrows ticked up. He reached up and lowered his sunglasses. "Thought I recognized you - Luke Cage."
"That's what the ID says." Luke responded.
Simpson snorted. "Tell me, did you stop just to humor us? We wouldn't be able to do a whole lot if you told the boy in blue to screw off."
Luke frowned at the question. "Believe it or not, I don't get stopped by the police often."
The two glared at each other for a moment.
"What's the hold up, up there." Felicia called from the back.
Officer Simpson glanced into the backseat.
"I guess that makes you Ms. Hardy."
"What it MAKES me, is running late for my fitting." Felicia huffed. She leaned forward, squeezing from the back and propping herself up on the center console, pressing up besides Luke's arm - he pretended not to feel her breasts on him/
"I'm talking to the driver, ma'am, please go back to your seat."
"He's driving MY car." Felicia stated with a hint of attitude.
"Ms. Hardy, I have this handled-" Luke began, but Felicia cut him off.
"Officer Simpson." Felicia said. "I think I saw you in the news recently."
Simpson frowned at that.
"Yeah." She continued. "Hero cop saves girl. Good press for the NYPD. Now, why would you go and ruin that good press by harassing a VERY socially active young lady, and her DIVERSE, superhero, companion?"
Officer Simpson's eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he blinked several times. Luke couldn't lie, he was caught off guard as well, giving Felicia a wary sideways glance. Felicia just smiled devilishly. Simpson gave Luke a 'is she serious?' look, and honestly all he could offer the man was a shrug. After a minute, he handed the papers back to Luke.
"Try and stay in your lane." He said.
"Will do." Like responded, watching the officer walk back to his squad car.
"Come on." Felicia urged, poking his bicep. "We can still make it to my fitting if you hurry."
Well, Luke had to admit, for all his powers allowed him to do, having a privileged white girl in his pocket was an ultimate trump card.
His schedule was simple. Most days he was free to do his hero thing uptown, but night - night belonged to Felicia. And long nights they were.
Luke wondered if the girl had superhuman endurance, the way she could party - Luke was never a nightclub kind of guy, wasn't his scene even in his younger days. So the blasting techno and top 40 hits, flashing lights and yuppies were a bit of an adjustment for him. Granted, his job wasn't very complicated. He just had to stand there and watch, and there certainly was plenty to watch.
Being in the hero game, Luke wasn't new to skimpy, impractical outfits, but Felicia's club outfits were giving them a run for their money; the price to inch of fabric ratio must've been an inverted line, as the seemingly most expensive outfits covered the least amount of skin. Perhaps it wouldn't have been AS distracting if Felicia didn't seem like she was auditioning to be in the most vulgar rap video of all time. While no one could say she wasn't graceful, her body moved with complete control and form, it just happened that the form was that of the sluttiest girl alive. Twerking, writhing, moving her body in fundamentally OBSCENE ways to the thumping bass of the club music, all while a few feet away from Luke in the sections she paid for, and while Luke was a strong man, he had to use a strength he didn't know he had to not stare as her ass popped out the bottom of her dress, or her titties bounced. Felicia had a power of drawing eyes, being the center of attention every time they went out. That ended up being most of the work when he wasn't chauffeuring her around - keeping the peanut gallery at bay: scaring away guys who wanted to grind and grab, politely scaring away girls who wanted to try to be her friend and ride her to fame. He was essentially a large vault door of her presence.
Honestly, what could Luke complain about. Sure, the music was a bit too loud for his liking, but he got paid well, didn't have to work too hard, and got to see some ass shake - for free no less! Really, it was too good to be true.
And he found that out the first time Felicia disappeared.
While his skin was made of steel, his bladder wasn't. The club let him use the private bathroom in the back, so he didn't even have to wait in line - he was gone for 3 minutes, and in three minutes, Felicia was gone. Luke was a hero, he wasn't prone to panic, but here, he came close. He looked all around the club for her, being at least a head taller than everyone else meant he could look over the crowd as he pushed through it - nothing. He went to the back to look at the club's security cam footage - of course it hadn't been updated in YEARS, but even the grainy footage that they had, Felicia seemed to disappear almost instantly; she stepped into the crowd, and didn't step back out - Luke really didn't want to be blamed if she fell into a different dimension or something stupid like that. For the next 20 minutes, he searched insider, outside, the surrounding block. Nothing.
Until she called him.
"Ms. Hardy, excuse my language, but where in the HELL are you." Luke said sternly into his phone
"I ran into a friend, and she wanted to go to a different club." Felicia responded.
"Where? I'll be there in-"
"Eh, don't bother. It was dead. I'm already on my way home"
Luke moved like Quicksilver back to the penthouse.
He gave her an earful when he saw her, dropping his veneer of professionalism. He told her what she did was dumb, dangerous, and the antithesis of what she paid him to do. She batted her thick lashes at him, which he hated to admit had a bit of an effect. She told him she was sorry and that she'd never do it again. Perhaps if Felicia wasn't so much cleavage, Luke wouldn't have been as forgiving. But she took her at her word, and left it at that.
Then it happened 3 more times.
To a certain degree, Luke was having doubts about his abilities as a bodyguard if she could keep giving him the slip, but after the 3rd instance, he realized that she was just strangely good at disappearing - it made him feel better about himself but raised more questions than it answered.
His first guess was drugs were somehow involved, but he never found any evidence of that. No out of the large ordinary sums of money going missing, not strange powders or pills or anything - besides her affinity for margaritas, the girl was clean as….well a girl who liked margaritas could be.
Which was aggravating, because it only caused more questions to arise. Lucas didn't have a bead on Felicia. He knew she was smarter than she let on, but that could mean anything. What did a pretty girl get up to that she didn't want her bodyguard to know about? A boy maybe - no, he'd have noticed that, plus she wasn't ashamed of mixing with unsavory boys publicly. Perhaps it was none of his business, he was getting paid either way. But - perhaps it was the hero in him,
but he knew there was something to get to the bottom of.
Felicia had to admit, Luke had a bit of personality to him - she liked that. He was clever, smart, and actually good at his job. She almost felt bad to treat him as a patsy, but a girl had to eat, and she had EXPENSIVE taste. He did his job, as a distraction, an extra set of eyes, even if he didn't know it - a security blanket she was paying six figures. In the time he had worked for her, she had been planning. Her disappearing acts had been in preparation, small heists for practice, but more importantly, reconnaissance.
The Armenians.
The same ones who she ripped off before, the ones who got too close. Smart money would've been to leave them alone, but she did always play foolishly, especially when others had such fun toys to play with.
In her research, she learned the gang was based out of Soho, specifically the boss' HQ being the top floor of a multi-story nightclub called Club Verj. And anywhere there was a boss, meant there were goodies to be had.
She had a plan, and she wouldn't even have to bring a change of clothes.
In Girl World, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no one could say anything about it. Granted, Felicia dressed like a slut on a daily basis, but the point still stood.
"Almost done in there?" Luke called from the other side of her closet door.
"Just a minute." Felicia sang back. She had made these modifications on the fly, so the sizing was a bit over/under, but she made it work. She squeezed into the last bit of garment, and she was ready.
She opened the closet door and stepped out.
"Ta-da!" She exclaimed.
"Alright, so we can-" Luke's sentence cut short as he took in her get up. The reaction was expected, and by design.
Halloween, the one night Felicia Hardy and Black Cat could be one and the same. At least, this was a VERSION of Black Cat. Felicia had been through various designs of her Black Cat gear over the years she's been at it, landing on her weave-knit, bulletproof, black cat-suit she had been using as of late. This…was not that.
Her costume was a modified version of hr gear, slutified. It was more lingerie than anything else: a sheer black brassiere, that extended out into long latex sleeves, made to accentuate her bust. She was exposed from her rib cage down to her waist, where she wore a matching black garter belt that connect to sheer tights with a vinyl skirt that was more a belt than a skirt and a black thong underneath. On her feet were a pair of 6-inch stiletto heels, which she could balance in immaculately. And of course, her little mask, for anonymity's sake. Black Cat, hiding in plain sight; she would hardly be the only one dressed up as Black Cat that night -it was a very popular costume in the city, and she wasn't even necessarily the sluttiest, but she WAS the original. Plus, her costume had some fun additions to it.
"THIS is dressed?" Luke questioned.
"Don't be a prude, Mr. Cage." Felicia teased. "It's Halloween, so that means a girl can have a little fun."
"You have alot of fun, every night." Luke returned.
"Touché, but the real questions is why aren't YOU dressed?""
Luke arched an eyebrow. "I am." He said, gesturing to his gun-metal grey suit.
"Nuh uh." Felicia tutted. "You're missing a key part of your uniform."
"...I'm not wearing it."
"Yes you are."
"No. You can't make me."
"Luke, who signs your paychecks?"
"..."
The club was packed, as it would be for a Halloween that was on a Friday.
Luke and Felicia had back entranced privileges; every club in the city gave it to her in the effort to curry favor with the heiress, and the hope that she'll but very expensive bottles. Club Verj was large, gaudy, yet sleazy; from their booth, Felicia could see the whole club, who was entering and existing, and where all the guards and employees were. There were a lot of heroes and villains out tonight, she counted 3 dozen Spider-Men, 20 fellow Black Cats, a few Captain Americas, and several; Captain Marvels, just to name a few - and one very annoyed looking bodyguard, in a grey suit and cat ears atop his bald head.
Though she was technically working, Felicia enjoyed herself. Just because she was on the job, didn't mean she couldn't shake her ass a bit - it was practically a requirement. She had time to kill until she made her move anyway, so she danced and moved her body. She glanced at Luke, who pretended not to watch; she never called him out for it - watching her bounce her ass and shake her tits were an unwritten benefit of his job; teasing him was a bit of fun, really.
It was about a half hour after their arrival that an opening showed itself. Bottle girls coming out the loud, obnoxious show, brining drinks to some big spender in another booth. People's eyes were on them; perfect.
"Luke, can you get me a drink." Felicia asked, leaning into his ear.
I'll have someone bring it up-" He replied
"They're busy." She said, indicating to the bottle girls. "I'm really thirsty."
Luke regarded her for a moment
"You'll be here when I get back?" He asked plainly.
"Of course."
"Here, and not wherever you get off to, that I should frankly be asking more questions about."
"Right here, on the dot. Cross my heart."
She batted her eyelashes at Luke, for extra effect. After a moment, he sighed, "What do you want?"
"Surprise me. Get yourself something too" She responded.
Luke shook his head, and walked out the section towards the bar. He looked back several times, making sure she was there, and did so several more times when waiting on his drinks. When he got them, he pushed through the crowd, losing sight of Felicia for just a second = he swore she waved at him right before, and when his vision was clear again, she was gone. He sighed, He got 2 jack and cokes - both were for him, since he knew she'd never touch her drink.
Felicia ALMOST felt bad lying directly to Luke's face; almost. But a girl had to work. Getting to the 2nd floor of the club was easy enough, a lot of faux drunk stumbling, following closely behind larger bodies, and making use of the shadows and flashing lights of the club. The second floor was private; for higher level employees and personal friends of the owners. Felicia had swiped a key card from a bouncer, and slipped into the elevator up looked up - shit, no escape hatch, the blueprints she had must've been old. She'd have to take her chances going out the front. She figured as long as she had some space, she could make her way-
Ding*
The elevator door opened, and she was looking into a large, ornate room; with expensive furniture and a chandelier. In it, were half a dozen tattooed, rather burly looking men, all staring at her.
"You! You're not supposed to be here." One of them said, standing up. Felicia could see that he was carrying, which was not ideal. She guessed they all were. "Get out here."
Normally, Felicia might throw a flash bang or a smoke bomb - louder than she cared for, but a back-up when needed. At the moment, she wasn't exactly as well-equipped as she might've been, so she had little choice but to step out.
She walked out confidently, the first rule of being places you weren't supposed to be was pretending like you were supposed to be there.
"Who are you?" The gangster asked, stepping forward. They were all dressed in expensive looking red dress shirts and black pants, favorite colors of Armenian mob - it looked as if they shopped at the same store.
"Ari, isn't it obvious." Another chimed in from the couch. "Just look at her."
Shit, she had been made. She had to figure out a way out of there and
"Is stripper."
Felicia blinked.
Ari, quirked an eyebrow. "You order stripper?"
"No." The other replied. "But boss probably did. We have been working very hard, making alot of money." The other murmured in agreement.
Well…this was an angle. An unforeseen undesirable angle, but an angle nonetheless, and a good thief took all angles available to them. So Felicia put on her best stripper face, and cocked a hip out.
"Yes." She said as sultry as she could, "I'm exactly as ordered."
Ari looked at her for a moment, and she didn't know if he was buying what she was selling. After several beats, he smiled, and turned to his comrades.
"Boys, fun is her!"
The other all cheered/
Felicia swallowed. She was in for an ordeal.
And an ordeal it was.
WHAP*
A gruff hand bounced off her ass cheek.
"Come on, shake that ass more!" a drunken gangster laughed, before slapping her other cheeked.
Felicia internally screamed and chastised herself for getting into this mess, but did as she told; she was in a bit of an untenable position to not do as they say. She was in the middle of the room, on a table, bouncing and shaking her ass as the goons surrounded her, hooting and hollering. Apparently she made a VERY convincing stripper.
Being a high level thief meant Felicia had to wear many hats, she had to do whatever she had to get the job done, which typically meant lying her ass off. Right now, her ass was of different use, entertaining a bunch of Armenian hooligans in their own private strip club. But unlike a real strip club, where even the seediest of ones had base levels of decorum and rules, this gang hideout was anarchy. Hands grabbed, pinched, felt and slapped. Besides dancing on the table, she was passed from lap to lap, giving the gangster lap dances, feeling both the kinds of weapons they had tucked in their pants. They were grabby and rough, but as long as Felicia felt as if she was in control, she could muster through it.
It was right around the moment she lost her top that Felicia realized she MIGHT have been in over her head. A drunken Albanian across the room was wearing her bra as a babushka, and her skirt was being tugged at.
"Hey fellas, go easy on a girl." She said, trying to sound unbothered. They, of course, paid her no mind, and things devolved from there. Hands roughly kneading and slapping her ass and twisting her nipples were aggravating enough, but once they started doing lines of cokes from her cleavage and ass crack, that REALLY rubbed her the wrong way. But it gave her an idea;
"You boys like a little powder." She fake giggled as one of the henchmen licked the remnant of coke from her nipple. "You should try MY personal stash."
She was able to wiggle out of the lap she was currently perched on, and got to her skirt, which had been thrown across the room. From a secret pocket in the waistband, she pulled out a small vile, with a white powder in it. To the untrained and uninformed, it looked like cocaine, but in reality it was an EXTREMELY potent knockout agent. Typically, she'd dilute it and put it in an aerosol from or tranq, but for the vacuum nosed Albanians, the powdered form was perfect.
The Albanians had no complaints, getting high on someone else's supply sounded right up their alley. Felicia made another lap around the room, suffering another round of touches as each gangster took a bump of her drug off of her; everyone had their fill, until there was just one left, the one who was currently wearing her bra as a headband.
"Want a bump, sweetie." She offered him enticingly.
He oggled him openly, but, surprisingly, shook his head.
"I don't touch the stuff." He said. "Plus, it's no good for the, how do you say 'manhood.'
"Yes, Daron is a big man!" One of his comrades laughed. "It's his birthday today, he's finally a man!"
"I'm 28."
"Exactly, almost still a baby! Stripper girl, you show him a good time? We have private bathroom - give him special show, yes?"
The others cheered in agreement.
"Uhm, I'm not that kind of girl, fellas-" But of course it fell on deaf ears. Daron seemed all too agreeable, popping to his feet and grabbing Felicia by the arm, pulling her up the room towards the bathroom, while the others hollered in excitement for him, hands reaching out to slap and grope her ass as she passed them. She could hardly get a word in as she was pushed into the private bathroom, her back pumping against the sink. Daron wasted no time, grabbing at her, pressing kisses to her neck. Felicia rolled her eyes; she was done with this. He was pawing at her panties, truing to roll them down over her hips
"Oh baby, I'm so hot for you," She said, barely trying to put on a porn voice. She pushed him back so that she could have a bit of space to maneuver, hopping up onto the sink. "Eat this pussy's pussy, baby. Just for a little while, then I'll let you do whatever you want to me."
Daron laughed, a lecherous smile on his face. "I'll show this pussy what a dog can do."
He made a barking sound as he sank down to his knees.
Purrfect.
The moment he was between her thighs, she shot her legs out, wrapping them around the hoodlum's head and neck in a tie triangle choke. Daron's eyes bugged out, and he let out a muffled yell, and began to reach around his waist for his weapon. He managed to get his pistol out and bring it up, but Felicia caught his hand easily, placing her thumb over the gun's safety so he couldn't access it.
"Shhhhh, just let it happen." She purred, flexing her deceptively strong legs. Daron continued to groan and struggle, his face going a shade of purple. Blood chokes didn't take long to knock someone out and after thirty seconds, Daron's eyes were rolling up into his head, and he was going limp. She held the hold for several more seconds, before unhooking her legs and letting Daron fall limply to the side. She straightened herself out, and walked out the bathroom, where she saw her little part drug had taken effect, all the hooligans in the room slumped over in various positions, drooling.
She went around the room, gathering her clothes up, and putting them back on. Well, with that problem solved, there was still the heist at hand. Elevator was out of the question, lest she get of guard again, so she needed -
Ah, a girl's best friend.
An air vent
Felicia felt right at home crawling through air vents, nimbly moving through the cramped space; her very own portal to the world, or at least high security areas. And now, she was exactly where she needed to be, directly above the expensive office of Ariyan Arslani, leader of the NYC Armenian mob. The office was alot like here, gaudy and overly large, but opting for a more rustic color pallet than hers. Ariyan was fat, bald, bearded, and covered in numerous tattoos, including on his bald head. He sat in his spinning chair, talking loudly into his cellphone in Armenian. Felicia had fallen behind in her duolingo, but she heard some fucks and shits in there. He was agitated about something, which was good for her; that usually was followed by a dramatic storming out and - right on Que. Arslani huffed angrily, and stood from his desk, stomping towards the door. The moment Felicia heard it slam, she was on the clock.
She quickly took off one of her heels. Besides being stylish, the stilettos had another use; a versatile multitool in the heel; a girl was never without her toys. She unscrewed the bolts holding the grate into place, and looked into the room. She gave it a quick scan. There were cameras, but that wasn't a problem. Her mask wasn't a flimsy piece of plastic, Inside was a small chip, that emitted a small EMT field constantly. If she got caught on camera, she'd be a series of dead pixels. She took off the straps holding her garters; they could hold up more than her tights. They were made of an elastic, STRONG material, something she had pilfered from a lab sometime or another. She connected them to her garter belt, and the edge of the vent, and hopped out, her descent being slowed as the straps stretched, lowering her to the ground gracefully. Now, if she was a safe, where would she be?
First guess, behind the opulent painting of herself. Arslani had a large painting of himself dressed like Napoleon (and 50 pounds lighter). She quickly grabbed the frame of the picture, and tossed it aside. And there it was, a large safe embedded into the wall. It was old school; no retina scanners or fingerprints - real paranoid gangsters were worried that it would be collecting their biometrics to be used against them (which they were).
In the movies, people would put their ear to the safe and turn the dial, listening to clicks, but any good safe would have smooth dial movement, and these days electronic keypads were the norm anyway. Safe cracking was a could be done a number of ways. There was, of course, the brute force, drilling through the locking mechanism and forcing the safe open. But that took time, and was loud. While she did have a drill embedded in her heel, it likely wasn't long enough to drill all the way to the locking mechanism, so that left the other school of safe-cracking; social engineering.
Typically used in hacking and phishing scams online, social engineering exploits people's inexplicable urge to share too much about themselves. Statistically, passcodes and passwords are directly related to the lives of the person who put them in place; no secure, but easy to remember. Typically one would need to gain access or trust to their mark's life to guess the code, mother's maiden names, pet names, where they went to school, and most commonly used, birthdays. Luckily for Felicia, since Arslani had been in the news and courts system enough, his birthday was public information.
12-digit code - 110371.
Denied.
Felicia frowned, and thought for a moment.
173011, his birthday backwards.
There was a buzz, and a clicking noise.
Felicia smiled. All too easy. She turned the handle of the safe, and pulled it open. It was filled with this and that, the way of an underworld hoarder. She pilfered though the wares: some petty cash, 100k, give or take, some black mail documents of various city officials - that could be interesting, Something shimmered in the back, catching Felicia's eye.
A diamond necklace with a stone the size of a peach pit; flawless, and waisted on a man like Ariyan Arslan, diamonds were a GIRL'S best friend after all.
She held it up, almost purring in appreciation.
Click*
Felicia was all too familiar with the sound of a hammer cocking back.
"A little kitty lost?"
Slowly, Felicia turned around, hands raised in the air, to see a very annoyed looking Ariyan Arslan staring at her, and the barrel of a glock staring more pointedly.
"You move very quiet for a guy your size." Felicia commented.
"6 years, special forces in the Armenian Army." Ariyan said, sounding almost proud.
"Well thank you for your service." Felicia mocked.
Ariyan narrowed his eyes at her. He looked up at the ceiling, seeing the open vent and Felicia's makeshift rappel system, and cocked his head.
"You must be the little sneak thief who has been robbing me as of late." He said. "You know, you have ruined some very lucrative deals, taking things that aren't yours. We almost tracked you down, but you managed to scamper away
Felicia shrugged. She figured she had stolen from them sometime or another, but it made sense that the goons that had come to her block were Armenians.
"What can I say, I get aro-"
Ariyan wasn't even polite enough to let her finish her quip before he pulled the trigger, shooting her right in the chest. Felicia let out a wheeze, spinning and landing on her front, going still.
"Tգ," Ariyan cursed in Armenian, walking over to his desk. He leaned over, pressing his intercom.
"Someone, get up here now. We have an uninvited guest." He said. There was no answer. Hello? Why is no one responding? Eh, fuck it."
He muttered to himself about how there was no good help these days, putting his belongings back in his safe. He looked around for his necklace, seeing it was still in Felicia's grasp.
"Hm, guess we'll see who is under the mask."
He squatted down, grabbing Felicia's shoulder to turn her over.
When she flipped her, he was surprised by two things-
One, there was no blood, nor gaping chest wound; in fact, Ariyan saw his bullet, center of mass, smashed and compacted - against Felicia's bra. Lacey, sexy tactical. Her bra was a knit weave of lightweight Kevlar; just because she wanted to parade around half naked, didn't mean she would be caught slipping. Her tit hurt like hell, and it would probably bruise by morning, but the armor held.
The second thing that surprised him, was that Felicia's eyes were open, and staring right at him.
She drew her knees-up in a snap, kneeing him right between the legs. His eyes crossed, and he groaned in pain, hand going to cradle his smarting appendages. He stumbled back, giving Felicia room to kip up to her feet. Looming over the man.
"Sorry to get your hopes up." She said. "Cats just like playing with their food."
The bottom of her foot crashed against his forehead, sending him spiraling to the ground, knocked out. She stood over him, and JUST to be sure, took out the last of her knock out powder, and sprinkled it on his face. He snorted and choked as it went up his nose; he'd be out for a nice, long while.
Diamonds in hand, she went out the way she came,
Felicia sauntered back into the party looking pleased as punch. Walking right out the elevator that started her little side quest. She made it only a few steps, before walking into a something solid, a chest. Her fight or flight kicked in for a moment, thinking she missed one of the Armenian goons, but relief washed over her when she looked up, and saw it was Luke.
"Luke, I was just about to find you." She said, smile on her face. She wasn't sure he could hear over the music, since his expression didn't change - his cat ears were gone, and he looked rather cross.
She was about to say something else clever, when he reached down and grabbed her by the wrist; he didn't hear her, but she saw his mouth word, "we're leaving."
He left no room for argument as he began to drag her behind him, forcing her to stumble with his long strides as he pushed through the crowd. When they got out the door, Felicia was finally able to voice her confusion,
"Cage, the hell are you doing - not so fast - these heels are hard enough to walk in."
Luke didn't respond to any of her comments, continuing to walk with her at a brisk pace, a pinched expression on his face. He walked them to the parking garage where they left the car - Luke tended to park far from others when possible, easier to avoid attention, meaning they had a whole floor to themselves towards the top. Feelcica gave up trying to parse what was happening, at this point just following along to see where this goes. Only when they made it to the car, did he let her go. He leaned heavily against the driver door, and sighed, brow knit like he was considering his word.
"You going to tell me what that was about, now?" Felicia asked, a brow raised. She was a bit anxious now; Luke was typically stoic as a rock.
He took another moment before answering, taking off his sunglasses, "I am I a joke to you?"
Felicia blinked. "What?"
"Am I a joke to you?" He repeated, folding his arms over his chest.
"What, of course not. You-"
"Really? Because I sure as hell feel like one sometimes." He said, frowning. "I mean, I'm a goddamn superhero - I've fought threats that could've destroyed half the city, yet, somehow, I can't manage to keep track of a one girl., who has the inexplicable ability to disappear without a soul noting"
"Don't beat yourself up about it." Felicia said, trying to keep the levity. Luke was not amused.
"Doesn't help that said girl makes has a habit of lying to my face." He remarked.
"Oh, that - I was just-"
Luke waved a hand dismissively, not wanting to hear whatever lie she was cooking up.
"Save it, you're not going to tell me what you get up to, and that's fine" Luke sighed. "You're a grown woman and apparently can take care of herself, but consider this my one day's notice."
Felicia's brow ticked up in surprise. She hadn't expected that.
"I - wait, don't you mean two weeks notice?" She questioned.
"Nope." Luke said, shaking his head. "After I drop you off tonight, that's it. I'm going back uptown."
"Wait, wait, let's talk about this for a sec." Felicia began. "If this is about pay, we can-"
"Not about that." Luke cut her off. "About principle, self-respect. Don't get me wrong, you pay me well, but I can only be played for a chump for so long. I'd rather it just be street urchins trying to get over on me, and not my employer."
Felicia frowned. Well, this was a damper on an otherwise great night. Truth be told, Felicia had come to quite enjoy Luke's company, even beyond him being a patsy. Felicia could name the number of men she tolerated in her life on one hand, and Luke was the latest edition. Sure, she COULD easily replace him, but she didn't want to, and what was the point of all this if she couldn't get what she wanted.
"There's nothing I can say to make you change your mind?" She asked.
"No, I've made up my mind." Luke said firmly.
Felicia smiled a bit. "Well, then I guess I won't say anything."
Luke raised an eyebrow at her. Felicia walked forward, crowding Luke's space, her chest pressing against him, bulging her tits in her top. Luke's eyebrows shot up, and before he could say anything, one of her hands snaked down between them, cupping the front of Luke's pants.
"Actions speak louder than words, after all." She purred, batting her eyelashes and giving Luke's bulge a pleasant squeeze.
He blinked down at her, and after a moment, actually laughed.
"Really?" He asked, sounding almost incredulous. "Ain't this a bit - cliché?"
"You honestly can't say you're surprised?" Felicia said, tilting her head to one side. "You think I trounce around half naked in front of you for no reason at all?"
"...It crossed my mind a time or two." Luke admitted, eyes glued to Felicia's tits pressed against him. "But something tells me you just like to play with your food."
"A little of column A, a little of column B."
"...You know this won't change my mind, right?"
"Maybe, maybe not, but either way, negotiations start NOW."
With, that, Felicia leapt up, smashing her mouth against Luke's. Luke might have had super strong skin, but he himself was not made of steel, immediately playing his part in the kiss. Luke was so much taller than Felicia, that she had to jump clear off the ground to wrap her arms around his neck. Luke instinctually reached down, grabbing two big handfuls of Felicia's barely covered ass to support her, and Felicia wrapped her legs around Luke's waist, locking them begins his back
The kiss was rushed and sloppy, and despite Luke's size and strength advantage, surprisingly Felicia was taking charge of the kiss, her tonnage moving nimbly and with purpose against Luke's. He was hardly virginal, being very popular with the uptown ladies and the rare private detective, but the way he was going at it with Felicia, well he honestly felt like a teenager again. Felicia rolled her hips against him, eliciting a groan from deep in his chest. He was the one to break the kiss first, a string of saliva connecting their lips.
"Jesus girl." He panted. "You don't play around."
"No, that's all I do." She purred, licking the shell of his ear, before whispering, "Everyone else is just a poor playmate."
"Yeah, well, I'm too old for games." He grunted. "On your knees, girlie."
Felicia gave him a faux pout, but did as he said, dropping to her knees on the concrete when he let her down. Luke's cock twitched at the sight of her; the little rich princess, dressed like a whore on her knees for him.
"Well, come on, then." He urged. "You're supposed to be convincing me."
A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes and she smiled again. She leaned forwards, placing her hands against his strong thighs, slowly rubbing upwards until she reached his belt. Her hands moved efficiently, undoing his belt, and button, while she leaned her head forward, taking his zipper between her teeth and drawing it downwards. Luke didn't even have a moment to be impressed before she was fishing him out of his boxer-briefs.
Now, Luke having a large cock was a forgone conclusion, it would have been stranger if he didn't, given the size of him, but even still she couldn't help but flinch as the large slap of meet sprang free, partially because it slapped across her face. Surprise ave way to lust after a fraction of a second, and she hummed, enjoying the sensation of his warm cock laying across her face, covering one eye, the weight and texture of it. She began to nuzzle her face against it, in a very cat like manner, reaching up to hold it steady while she rubbed her chin, nose, cheeks along its length; she twitched her wrist, slapping herself against the cheek a few times with it, a bead of pre-cum dripping out and smearing as she did. She lifted it up so that it was pointing upward, and, leaning forward even more so she could access the large pair of testicles that hung low between his legs; she nuzzled them too, pressing her face flush against them, essentially tea-bagging herself, inhaling their strong musk deeply.
"Are you actually purring?" Luke laughed. "Think you may be taking your costume a little too - Oh FUCK."
Luke's sly comment was cut short as Felicia wasted no time, guiding her mouth onto his bulbous cock head. Eyes trained on his under her mask, she pulled her cheeks inward, giving him a hard suck, making him groan. She swirled her tongue along his glands expertly, giving it very pleasant kitty licks. Luke's hand went to the top of her head, not grabbing quite yet, but petting and massaging her scalp. That spurred Felicia to move forward, sinking down further onto his cock, only a few inches, bobbing back and forth slowly, teasingly. Sh brought her hands up, she'd need both to cover the rest of his cock, but he shook his head at her.
"Uh-uh" He tutted. "No hands."
Well at the moment, Felicia was aiming to please, so she did as she was told, politely folding her hands behind her back. She hummed around him to show her compliance. With that, Luke took control, hands curling in her hair, drawing Felicia deeper onto his cock. Luke was very aware of his strength, only pulling hard enough to pull Felicia along.
While the girl had been on her knees more than enough times, taking Luke's size was still a challenge, her jaw stretching to accommodate his girth. Luckily for her, amongst her many skills as a thief, she also had one that few people knew about - she had no gag reflex. Something which Luke was becoming more and more aware of as his cock slid into her throat, and her nose came closer and closer to his curly pubic hairs.
"Sweet Christmas." He said in amazement as her nose hit his pelvis, and her bottom lip tickled his balls. She swallowed around him, and gave him a wink, which was just what was needed to set Luke off. He shifted his hand, gripping her ponytail tightly, using it as a handle as he began to fuck her face, bobbing her head up and down his cock in quick succession. Spit and slobber ran down her chin as she kept a tight seal around his length, licking and sucking where she could, rolling her neck to meet with the thrust of his hips, his balls bouncing off her chin over and over. Her lipstick smeared, leaving markers of her blowjob all along the length of his cock like little flags of discovery.
"Fucking hell." Luke cursed as he fucked Felicia's mouth like a pussy. This was almost worth all the grief and cock teasing she put him through - almost
He pushed her head back, slowly freeing his cock from Felicia's mouth. She didn't want to let go, sucking hard and clamping her lips tightly around the head, but he just gave her a small shove to free himself with a pop of her lips.
"Can't be busting down your throat now, can I?" He panted.
"You can do whatever you want to me." Felicia replied, panting herself, eyes blown and dilated.
"Damn right. Up." Luke ordered, giving her hair a tug to get her on her feet, Felicia hissed in pain; good pain - she liked it a bit rough. Luke held her by her hair, reaching up with his free hand to grope and grab at her tits. He gave her top a tank, pulling it down to her rib cage, her bouncy breast springing free. He mauled her breasts with his large hand, before giving her left tit a slap. Felicia moaned wantonly - more good pain. Luke gave her right tit a slap; less good pain. That's where she had been shot. But she hid it with a hiss.
"I wanted to do that since the interview." He admitted.
"We could've worked titty slapping into your contract." Felicia grinned.
"Coulda, shoulda. Come over here."
Luke moved to the back seat, pulling the door open, then pushed Felicia forward, bending her over so that she was bent almost in half over the upholstery seats.
"Ooooh, so forceful." Felicia teased, wiggling her ass enticingly. That earned her a cheek jiggling spank. She squealed out, and her gave her another, and then another.
"That's for treating me like a chump. He told her, before smoothing his hand over the red handprint forming on her porcelain backside.
"I'm soooorrryy." She whined, not sounding very sorry at all. She was wet, dripping through her panties. Luke's nostrils flared, and he didn't care as he tore both the skirt and panties from her lower half. He stepped in close, cock sandwiching in the curve of her ass; he kicked her feet apart, gripping his cock and bouncing it against each ass cheek a few times for the hell of it, then he got to work, lining himself up with her drooling slit and driving himself forward with a hard thrust, sinking into her wet heat. Felicia let out a mix of a whimper and a moan, hopping to her tippy-toes as she was filled and stretched. She had to admit, despite her long history of sexual endeavors, Luke's size was making her feel quite virginal, in the best way.
Luke grabbed her ass cheeks, spreading them apart so he could get a good look of himself spreading her open. With his tight grip on her booty, he pulled his hips back, retracting half his length, before snapping them back forwards, forcing a gasp for her, he repeated the action again and again, setting a slow forceful pace, not in any kind of hurry. The resounding sound of his hips clapping against her ass echoed in the car park - in theory anyone could walk in on them, but neither of them seemed all to concerned about that notion
"More-" Felicia rasped out, trying to push her hips back to meet his thrust, but he held her down against the seat. He gave her ass another slap for her troubles.
"I thought this was all for my benefit?" Luke teased, slowly churning his hips, cock mixing up her insides.
"You still work for me for one more day, and I'm ordering you to fuck me!" Felicia yelled. Luke couldn't argue with that logic, he was still under contract. So, Luke propped a foot up on the running bar, and shifted his hands to get a firm grip on Felicia's hips, then, he began to fuck her.
Hard, fast, mean strokes, hard enough to shake the whole truck and really test its suspensions. Luke's cock dove deep into Felicia, over and over, reaching places she didn't know existed, and she wouldn't have had it any other way.
"Yes!" She moaned, "Fuck, FUCK yes!" She cried. Felicia's fingers clawed at the seats, tearing into the expensive leather as she was getting reamed to hell and back
If their coupling could echoed in the garage before, now between the rapid slapping of skin and Felicia's moans, they probably could be heard on the bottom floor.
Luke hadn't had pussy like this in ages; young, tight as a vice, and evidently something to prove. If this WAS going to be his last day, he was going to enjoy the hell out of it.
"I'm gonna - I'm gonna..," Felicia began to babble, propping herself up on her elbows. She threw her ass back against Luke's thrusts with all her might. Almost there, almost-
Luke hilted himself with a womb pounding thrust, cock flexing and twitching. That was all Felicia needed for her cunt to clench and orgasmic bliss to take over. She let out a wanton shriek, body shaking and convulsing. The sudden tightening of Felicia's pussy sent a surge of pleasure through his cock, reaching his balls and setting them loose. His cock twitched, and a torrent of hot cum erupted from his cock, giving the kitty her cream. He groaned, and folded over Felicia, his sweaty forehead against her upper back as he rocked his hips, working his orgasm through, and emptying his balls. The garage got quite again, aside from their panting and breathing.
"Sweet Christmas." Luke finally said after several minutes.
Felicia snorted and began to laugh, a new sound echoing in the garage. "That's such a stupid saying."
The drive was pleasant and quiet, Felicia curled up comfortable in the back seat, naked aside from her boots and mask and necklace. It was going to be some explanation for the front desk of her building.
"So, can I expect your resignation, or prompt arrival in the morning?" Felicia asked.
Luke looked at her in the mirror, a small smile on his face. "That implies I'm going anywhere tonight."
Felicia purred. "So that means you'll still be in my employ?"
"I'll think about it."
"Well, let this be an extra incentive." Felicia said, breathing, spreading her legs to show his come still smattered about her thighs and cunt. "Consider it a regular and vigorous bonus for continued hard work."
"Like I said, I'll think about it." He said, continuing to look at her in the mirror. Surprisingly, his eyes weren't drawn to her legs, but instead her chest, or rather the necklace sitting pretty on her cleavage. Diamond, very expensive, shiny, memorable
A necklace he knew she hadn't arrived with.