Most Eligible Bachelor 9 (Patreon)

On Saturday, Summer Gleeson put on an altogether more sultry ensemble than she usually wore. In a tight blue Oxford skirt with kinky black tie and a black skirt over tight, sheer stockings, she was hoping to get her boyfriend’s attention.

But Sheldon hardly looked at her all morning before announcing, “I think I’ll go play some golf, babe.”

Summer tried to sound cheerful in replying “Have a good time, dear.”

Golf. Shit, she thought. She could think of much more enjoyable things to do than knock a little dimpled ball around.

Her neglected cunt was driving her crazy. She would’ve loved to spend a few hours in bed doing anything but sleeping, yet that just didn’t seem to be in the cards.

So. Another day frustrated. Summer tried to think of how long it had been since she’d gotten any and she couldn’t remember. Three weeks? Four? It seemed like despite all her dieting, make-up, hairstyling, and fashion—everything she did to make herself one of the most attractive women in Gotham, and her not even a socialite—her loving boyfriend just wasn’t interested in sex anymore.

Summer realized she was fuming and that would do her blood pressure no good. She decided she would be better off getting something done, since Sheldon was unavailable. She checked her calendar and saw she had an interview scheduled with Dick Grayson about his charity work.

It was a puff piece, but Grayson was a hot commodity ever since he’d been voted Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor, so it would get readers. And spending the day with him would at least do something for her libido. If she had to retreat to her massaging showerhead, at least she’d have plenty of material to work with once she was done talking with that dreamboat.

Picking up her phone, she called the shelter where Dick worked to ask if they could possibly move up the interview. And while it rang, Summer looked at herself in a nearby mirror.

She decided she wouldn’t change out of the ensemble that Sheldon had so callously ignored. It skirted the edge of professionalism as it was and besides, it wasn’t like she was doing a story on war crimes.

She even went so far as to unbutton the lowest button on her shirt, letting her belly button peek out above where the shirt was tucked in. It was flirty but she could use some good flirting.

Summer squeezed her thighs together. Dreaming of some sensual tryst with Dick Grayson, a part of her wanted to go straight to the pay-off. But the receptionist she talked to said that Dick was perfectly free to meet with her. Summer wanted to be at the top of her game, even for ‘human interest,’ and decided that a little frisson of lust might give her an edge.

She wondered how often Grayson was interviewed by women who were down to fuck him. Who knew—maybe she’d write the whole thing in gonzo journalism prose. Talk about what his bulge was doing to her as much as his work with the homeless. Her editor would love that.

She and Vicki often discussed their problems with men. They were both in the same boat, with long-term relationships where their guys couldn’t seem to shit or get off the pot. Both women were starved for cock, marriage, or a dramatic break-up.

Summer pumped her thighs together again, sending a little jolt of lasciviousness into her cunt. She promised herself she wasn’t really going to sleep with Grayson, though. It was just a fantasy. Even in a place as weird as Gotham, fantasies stayed fantasies.

***

Dick Grayson worked at the Martha Wayne Foundation, running Arbogast Homes—low-income housing built to replace a block’s worth of buildings destroyed in the Bane bombings.

Hearing about it on the street, Summer had taken the project as Lex Luthor-infused futurism. More about selling a widget than actually helping people. But the way Dick explained it was that it was on an on-road back into society for people who had fallen through the cracks.

“It is a gated community, but not for the super-rich. The housing is actually free. We offer drug rehab, job training, adult education, even daycare. And there are plenty of small businesses within the complex. A movie theater, a bookstore, a music shop. After a few months, we have formerly homeless people that are free of addiction, psychologically stable, with new wardrobes, new friends. They want to go back to work. And who do you think is a harder worker? Someone that’s gotten eight hours of sleep and had three square meals or someone that’s barely scraping by, working three jobs?”

They rounded the entire block on the tour Dick gave her before winding up back at his office, which was not at all what she expected. It was just another apartment and decorated more with cleaning supplies and tools than artwork. The place was evidently as much a repository for the tools of Dick’s trade as it was any sort of workspace.

Given how used Summer was to executives who took their ‘offices’ in the thousands of square feet and still did more business on the golf course than behind the desk, Dick’s lack of ostentatiousness surprised her. Even the leaders of charity organizations didn’t have a trusty plunger that they kept on hand.

But as Dick put it, he was a glorified super. Arbogast Homes had been built to the highest standards, but this was still Gotham, so they had to put up with everything from attempted theft of the copper wiring to rats trying to move in. With Dick’s connections, charisma, and surprisingly shrewd financial mind, he kept everything running in tip-top shape.

“You can’t just write a check and expect everything to work itself out. It’s an ongoing effort.”

“Would you say that’s what Bruce Wayne does?” Summer probed. “Just writes a check and considers it done?”

Dick grinned at her, his handsomeness a poker face. “I would say Bruce has certain priorities. He runs Wayne Enterprises very well, and he took good care of me and now Tim Drake… that’s where his gifts lie. I have more time on my hands, so I’m able to get more into the care and attention that a place like this needs.”

Summer nodded, hoping her shirt was enough to conceal how hard her nipples were. Hearing Dick Grayson talk about care and attention was putting her wistful thinking about a dirty interview into a whole new light.

It was obvious now that going home and masturbating wouldn’t accomplish anything. In a way, she almost preferred the gushing tumult she felt right now, the hot yearnings in her burning cunt, to the ‘satisfaction’ she’d get from a self-inflicted orgasm.

Forcing herself out of her head, she caught Dick staring at her. She didn’t know how long he’d been doing it, her own mind distracted by her longings, but it seemed brazen. He devoured her with his eyes, offering her anything she might want from him, the look on his face not so much friendly as smoldering.

“What about your personal life?” Summer asked, the borderline inappropriate question slipping out of her.

“My personal life?” Dick asked. He didn’t sound affronted, but coy. Teasing, even. If Summer didn’t know better, she’d think he was using his wiles on her the same way Summer flirted her way to her interview subjects… though she had nothing to give him but, well… what she wanted to give him. Wanted to take.

“You’ve had some very interesting relationships over the years. A space alien, the police commissioner’s daughter, even Helena Bertinelli of the Bertinelli crime family…”

Dick chuckled amorously. “I suppose I’ve been lucky enough to have known some very strong women over the years.”

“Very beautiful women.”

He shrugged. “There’s no shortage of beautiful women in Gotham. Even the journalists can be absolutely lovely.”

Summer pinched her lips together. She felt like swooning, but she wouldn’t. She had to retain a modicum of professionalism, even when she wanted to fuck this guy’s brains out. Or, more likely, have her own brains fucked out.

Dick was so young and handsome, taut and slender, with a knowing look in his eyes that seemed to broadcast he knew about her sexual frustration. Which, in turn, told Summer that she was sending out plenty of signals, her body telling this man just how open she was to being satisfied. Really satisfied, not just with enough to get through another day, but like Batman himself had decided to bed her.

“I suppose your readers don’t just want to know what I do for a living,” Dick said, an eyebrow arched. “They want something more in-depth.”

The way he said it made Summer shiver. She was actually considering going through with it! The man was too handsome, too well-off, the kind of man she could marry and her mother would throw a parade. What’s worse, the involuntary hints she had given him of her interest had gotten a resounding response from Dick. His body took on an aggressive magnetism as he turned his carnal attention on her.

Summer didn’t think she could settle for the kind of ships-in-the-night one night stand that this kind of intrigue was best kept to. No, she needed someone less perfect, someone who would scour her clean of her sexual compulsions, that she could then discard without any regret. Dick Grayson she was almost in love with already and she didn’t even know how hung he was.

No. That wasn’t true. She knew. He was well-hung, she could feel it. He had to be. A man couldn’t be that perfect and then be anything less than perfect between the legs. Fuck, he even cared about the homeless…

“Why don’t we get lunch together?” Dick said lightly, those the way his dark eyes riveted hers was anything but casual.

Summer suddenly realized her mouth was half-open. She closed it, only to need to say something: “I… don’t know if I could.”

“Sure you can. It’s about lunchtime already. We can get something to eat, keep the interview going, you can ask me all you want about my personal life. Talking about my sordid love affairs will go down easier over a glass of wine.”

Now he was ordering them wine. Summer placed the tip of her tongue against her front teeth, already getting a lewd impression of sipping something sweet while she gazed into his eyes. She’d wanted to get fuel for her fire, but that was so much of a fantasy that she felt like touching herself right there.

She felt out of control, not in her actions, but in what her body was signaling to Dick. Her entire body seemed to be screaming that he could fuck her if he wanted to. It would take a rock not to notice what was loaded into her every glance at him, dripping from her every word, whether she wanted to say it or not.

Summer didn’t know where Dick’s intriguing, probing friendliness was going… whether she would finally be tempted into making a pass at him or he would eventually make an advance on her that she was helpless to resist… but before it could go any further, she heard Dick’s receptionist—one of the few perks he allowed himself, an executive assistant who held down the fort while he was out working—say in a raised voice “You can’t go in there, hey, wait--!”

The door burst open and two women swept into a room. One was short and compact, wearing jean shorts and a muscle tee with armholes so big the shirt had virtually no sides, showing the curvature of her madly jiggling breasts. She bounced around the office, launching herself at Dick in a hug so exuberant that despite how he towered over him, she nearly knocked him to the ground.

The other woman was tall and curvaceous, a redhead, wearing a long trenchcoat tightly bundled around her voluptuous body. She strolled in after the first woman, turning around at the door to blow a kiss to Dick’s secretary, who sagged back to her desk like a sleeping pill had just kicked in.