I know this is all supposed to be about catching bad guys and making the streets safe for women and children and all that boy-scout stuff, but I gotta say that wearing that new outfit for the first time and staring into my partner's admiring eyes made me horny as hell. In that moment, I didn't give a shit that the Tempest was still out there, or even that he'd nearly killed me a few short days ago, or that there was fresh danger lurking around every corner in the form of dozens of other adversaries. I felt like my body was pure electricity, like I was invulnerable. If you'd ask me to leap over a tall building in a single bound, I'd have found a way to do it.
I threw myself into the night's training exercises with an energy far beyond anything I'd been capable of in the past. Looking back now that I've calmed down a little, I realize that all I probably wanted to do was get another chance to roll around on the ground with Batman, our bodies pressed into one sweaty, mobile mass. But I told myself it was all about making myself a better crimefighter.
After all, it's my only job now. That's right: In addition to the suit, Bruce told me he'd start paying me for my services. He asked how much I got at the old place, and doubled it. Part of me thinks this is a really bad idea --having a sugar daddy is not my style -- but the broke part of me points out that I don't have too many other alternatives at the moment.
I didn't get home till nearly 5 a.m., by which point Batman had been back out on the streets for two hours. (Some old friend/foe of his called The Riddler has been planting clues for him lately, he says.) Before he left, Bruce said he'd draw up some groundrules in the near future. Great. Can't wait to see what that entails. But I'm grateful to have a job, and maybe having something in writing will help future misunderstandings.
Alfred drove me home. There's talk of giving me a car of my own--nothing fancy enough to draw attention, just a set of wheels so I don't have to wait to be chauffeured around town. Anyway, it wasn't exactly the end of the evening I originally had in mind (instead of getting laid, I may well have gotten screwed), but I can live with it. Believe me, I can live with it.
Oh, shit--look at the time. Training starts up again in an hour. Plus I've got an appointment with Dr. T tomorrow. That should prove interesting...