Jarvis and Barbara were seated at a private table in the back of the club. Both of them were rather approving of the other’s outfit. Barbara looked divine in the halter necked black rubber mini dress and fuck me boots. And she had to admit Jarvis was rather fetching in his latex poet shirt, jacket and pants. Neither of them were about to admit that they were now fetishists, but it was clear that they both liked each other’s outfit.
“Well you have been doing well for yourself,” Barbara said as the waitress brought the drink menus.
Barbara noticed that there were no prices on hers.
“Since I have been back,” Jarvis smiled, “I have been rather busy, but as a rule rather quite about it. A million dollar deal here, a few hundred grand there… You know the drill.”
“And all the while you have been trying to stay as far under the radar as you could,” Barbara pointed to the wine she wanted, “And with two loyal assistants I am sure that that has been easier.”
“Yes, it has been easier,” Jervis smiled, “It has also allowed me to do more thinking on my own. Now this might sound daft, but I think I had something of a brainwave as the British would say.”
“Beyond that we have a benefactor?” Barbara asked.
“Yes,” Jervis smiled, “It would seem that the benefactor uses… sub-contractors so to speak, and each month or so a new one takes over.”
“Ok,” Barbara could see the why Jervis might think that.
“But an under lying theme is that among the changes made, our benefactor seems intent on making more latex fetishists,” Jervis smiled and paused as the waitress brought Barbara her wine and Jervis his beer, “I would submit to you ourselves as exhibits A and B. I can tell from our choice in wardrobe, namely shopping the same designer and our reactions to each other’s choice that whatever our feelings were before, we are both now complete latex fetishists.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Barbara shrugged, “Before I never understood the appeal of latex, when I developed my ‘skin condition,’ I was practically allergic to it… Now I find it so stimulating, the feel, the smell, the sounds, it tickles all five senses.”
“Would the lady care for a dance?” Jervis asked.
“Of course.”
*
Neither The Cheetah nor the Mad Hatter had any clue about what was happening in New York City or Gotham for that matter. But as back in the bat-cave.
“Right here, I want them facing the screen,” Selina ordered to her kittens the she spoke into the radio,
“Did you get Alfie?”
“Yes Mistress,” Steph “Kitten” Brown responded, “He did knock out about half of my leopards before we got him.”
“You know what to do with him,” Selina snapped then turned back to the team of Tiger clad boys in front of her. Alright, set up the circuits like I told you, the DVD player and Transmitter on the same circuit as the timer and Tens units and the VR system and the IV pumps on the other. I bet Bruce is regretting giving me the key now! Now lets get them rigged up, when they come to, I want them to be watching Leo’s and Kitten’s confessions video on loop and a countdown to it’s broadcast to the world… And if Bruce and Dick don’t want their identities along with Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown’s to be public knowledge they will have to activate the switch that starts drugging them with Cataphrenic-D and turning on the VR headsets with my best BDSM introduction videos.”
Selina rubbed her crotch throw her latex leggings at the thought of breaking Bruce.
*
Barbara Minerva was amazed at herself and Jervis Tetch. When Jervis was rambling in Alice in Wonderland quotes, he was a very lucid and charming man. He was a decent dancer, not stellar, but decent, a great listener, and a charming conversationalist. If he was wearing fun-der-wear as shiny as his polished rubber suit, she might just toss the table cloth off right now and bang him on the table right here and now. A ping from her phone let her know that it was midnight and her Cubs were waiting to hear an answer on if they were going to have hatter for dinner one way or another.
“So tell me Jerry,” Barbara smiled as she finished her second wine for the night, “What are you wearing under that suit?”
“Burmuda Shorts with both sides sheathed,” Jervis smiled, “And a rubber bull dog chest harness.”
“Get the Check,” Barbara smiled, “You are coming to my play dungeon.”
*
By about one o’clock, Manhattan was effectively dead. The only sounds were the sirens of car alarms and the snoring of some four million people who were going to wake up with a hell of a hangover in the morning. As the enchanted liquor wore off and burned out of their systems, the residents of New York returned to normal, and would wake up with a black out of last night and no idea how they ended up in such slutty and silly cloths. Among the throngs, Doreen Green, Alias Squire Girl had found Moe again, and when they wake up, they would have an interesting time figuring out why they were chained together and his dick was in her ass and she was drooling in his ear.
*
In spite of all the insanity over the last few months, Edward Nigma was calm collected and uninterested in the goings on. Before Thanksgiving he had decided on a sabbatical after his last bat attack. And for a few months now Mr. S. R. Lock was renting a cabin in Nova Scotia while writing a comprehensive history of Gotham’s underworld, from the founding of the United States in the 18th century to the rise of the costumed vigilantes in the twentieth century. He was resting on a couch with his laptop next to him as an unseen being entered the cabin. Around the man was notes on stock investments and projections on sports for the coming seasons as well as finance reports from companies he had invested in.
“Such a smart and detail oriented man,” the being smiled as she brushed his red bangs from his brow, “He would father some fine children…”
The being put her gloved hand to her chin and thought about who would make a great mother for the Riddler’s children.
*
Jervis was not the most aggressive lover, Barbara admitted, but goddess was he giving as good as he got! Once they got home, it hadn’t taken long for her to get her dress off and let her fur out. Now it was clear that Jervis was a latex and a furry fetishist as the rubber corset was as much a turn on as the cheetah fur. And true to his word, under his suit there had been a black rubber chest harness and a set of Bermuda shorts with a sheath for his man meat to hang out and another for her finger inside of his bottom.