The reaction to the dress was everything that I could have hoped for. I'm not naturally very persnickety about my clothes. Usually if it's clean, legal, and people don't laugh in my face too blatantly, I'm satisfied. By golly, though, I had worked on this puppy. I think I'd channeled every scrap of girly energy I'd ever had since Dad's seed hit Mom's egg and they decided to go with the XX instead of the XY. It was one magnificent splurge of femininity, and I had decided to take it off the scale.

Now that I was confronted with Lex Luthor, I wasn't sure if I could go through with the final part of the unveiling.

Oh, yes. There was more. Didn't I mention that? How remiss of me.

*snicker*

Anyway, the man was standing there, looking at me. You couldn't call it a leer. Lex Luthor was too urbane to leer. And it wasn't an ogle. Ogling was far too vulgar for him. We're talking perlustration, contemplation; conspection, conspectuity; regard, reconnaissance, gazing, perusal... Yes, those are all real words. I looked them up. Gah, if you don't trust me by now... Oh. That's right. *giggle8 Yeah, trust me. And the check's in the mail, you're beautiful, don't ever change, you know what I mean? My girl will call your girl. We'll talk, we'll do lunch. So leave a message on my machine...

Sorry. Got side tracked by a Weird Al Yankovic moment.

Anyway, the man could stand there and look perfectly civil to the entire world while giving you a look that made you think that maybe Thing had broken loose from the Addams family, because it sure felt like a hand was running over you under your clothes. He noticed that I was feeling the... um, weight, and smiled.

Have I ever mentioned that Evil and Sexy are not necessarily mutually exclusive concepts? It's damn disturbing, lemme tell ya.

"I am glad you decided not to deal with the modern equivalent of combination body armor and chastity belt." His eyes said he was particularly glad about the absence of the chastity belt function. "But my dear, you said you're wearing hose. How are you managing that without a girdle?" His eyes glinted, and he cocked his head to one side. "Surely you're not being naughty enough to wear a garter belt?"

He seemed to have a talent for totally ignoring everyone else in the world. I had God knew how many people watching me right now, if you count the TV cameras, but it felt like we were alone somewhere very, very isolated. I wasn't sure whether I liked that, or it scared the snot out of me.

But I'd planned this thing for a long time, and I wasn't going to back down from my final show stopper. In any case, Clive would never have let me live it down. Believe me, you really don't want to give an already playful Dom an excuse to tease you.

"No, no belt." I was unknotting the satin curtain cord that fitted up under my bazooms (hey, I'm allowed to be politically incorrect about my own body, okay?). I'd practiced this move a couple of times with Clive in the bathroom before we left. I just hoped it would work out here. In any case, he saw what I was doing, and moved into position nearby.

They hadn't been able to tell, but the dress was actually hung on the cord, and could be removed like a cloak. Which I did. I whipped that sucker off and around my head like a matador using his cape. Or, perhaps more realistically, a stripper in burlesque's heyday getting ready to sail a portion of her costume out into the audience. I didn't do that. I wasn't about to let those trolls have souvenirs. I was saving that baby. It flew through the air toward Clive, and he caught it neatly.

That left me standing there in what roughly resembled a skater's outfit, the brief skirt a miniature version of the one I'd just whipped off. The hose were Midnight Blue, too (I had refrained from wearing fishnet. Hey, even I have my limits). They were held up by garters encrusted by the same beads and sequins that adorned the dress. I looked ready to tap dance my way through a 1930's backstage musical. "Just garters."

I should have covered my ears and eyes. I'm lucky I didn't get hearing loss from the noise the crowd made, or blinded by the flashes.

Oh, these people were so easily amused. I can't even tap dance.

I haven't regretted all that many things in my life. Getting so drunk the night Diana Prince trapped me in the bog at Lavender's Green was one of them. Not buying stock in Yahoo when I could was another (though recent events have taken a bit of the sting out of that). At that moment, taking off that skirt in front of Lex Luthor was another.

I'm sure his eyes didn't actually glow. I mean, you'd have to be, like, Scott Summers for that, and he's Marvel, right? But I got the impression that at that moment he was considering eating me: figuratively, and, possibly, literally. I began to wonder if I could make it back to the limousine.

"A most charming ensemble," he purred. "I have no doubt that there will be knock offs flooding the market by the end of the week." He stepped forward, reaching out. "Now, why don't I escort you in?"

"Oh, I'm afraid that isn't possible, Luthor." The calvary rode over the hill in the form of Bruce Wayne. Let me tell you, the calvary never looked that good in a tux. Dick Greyson was right behind, and Clark, Clive, and Jimmy brought up the flanks. Hey, I did have my own posse!

Luthor wasn't the type to be easily faced down, though. "Very few things in this world are impossible, Wayne. What makes you think this is?"

"Because the lady already promised to allow me to escort her in."

My, the man lied beautifully. Must have had something to do with all those corporations he headed up. But this was precisely the out I was looking for. I took his hand and gave him the best social smile, the one that was sort of a cross between Marie Osmund and Stewardess Barbie. "Yes, I'm afraid I did."

Luthor's eyes narrowed, but he still looked pleasant. I began to suspect that his expression could remain bland while he removed someone's spleen with a grapefruit spoon. "I believe that, as an auction participant, she has no official escort till after she has been, mm... vended."

"True. So until such time as I purchase her company," Here he kissed my hand.

Eeeep!

Considering my reaction to that, and the one Lex had given me at the Daily Planet, it seemed that I had a fetish I didn't know about. I noticed Clive paying attention, and looking interested. I guessed he was taking mental notes, and I expected a new kink in the routine the next time I went in for a wash and trim. "We will rely on civilized, social custom. Firsties."

"My. How boring." But Luthor sketched a polite bow. "Soon, my dear. Soon." He went in.

Bruce smiled at me. "You do seem to get yourself into awkward situations."

"Worse than a yoga beginner. Thank you."

His eyes glinted. "Don't go giving me altruistic motives. I wanted a closer look at that outfit." He leaned over and peered. "Are you really wearing a strapless bra?"

"To tell on myself, yes. You can't achieve this sort of aerodynamics without either cloth or silicone."

"Silicone?"

"You'd be almost as much fun to explain that remark to as Clark would be, but for different reasons."

"You don't make a lot of sense, but you're fun." He took my arm and started to lead me back into the hotel.

"Hi Scribe." Dick grinned. "Nice outfit you're almost wearing."

"Oh, that one was old when Adam used it on Eve."

"Okay, how about 'You look so good you ought to be shrink wrapped to protect public morals'?"

"Oo, nice one! Two points for that, and I'd like permission to borrow it somewhere down the line."

Inside, Lois hurried over. "What's the commotion? There was such a noise out what the hell are you wearing?"

I gave her a look of pained modesty, spreading the fingers of one hand across the top of my bosom *and that darn bra did kind of give a person a lovely cleavage*. "Lois, please! Such language. My poor virgin ears can scarce take such crap."

"Funny, ha ha. Clive! Give her the rest of that thing, and she can wear it as a shawl or something."

Clive smoothed the material. "Oooh, I don't think so. The view is far too pleasant. I'll hang on to it, in case it gets really chilly and," he smirked, "she doesn't feel like warming up the natural way."

Dick said, curiously, "Natural way?"

"If you'll step into the cloak room with me for a moment, I can demonstrate."

"Clive."

"You're right. It is a bit early. I should at least have some champagne." He flicked Dick's bow tie, smiling, "Later, precious." and wandered off toward the bar.

"Dick?" I said. "Sweetie, don't go anywhere with Clive unless you really want an alternative form of education."

He looked bewildered. "Okay."

There was a little mixing and mingling to be done before the auction got started. I met the mayor: as unctuous an individual as any I've ever run across. I felt like I really ought to make things easier for him by flipping my skirt up, since he was trying so hard to kiss my butt.

They had a band, and not the little guitars and drums kind like at Lavender's Green. Lawrence Welk would have swallowed his accordion with envy. I stood on the side of the dance floor watching the couples. Bruce asked, "Would you like to dance?"

I glanced at him. "I don't really know how. Is that the Fox Trot, the Turkey Trot, or some other animal named terpsichorean delight?"

"You've got me. I just basically hang on to my partner and shuffle."

I brightened up. "Hey! Then I can dance!"

"Outstanding. Shall we?"

I stepped up to him, fluttering my eyelashes demurely. "That's to be determined at a later time."

He grinned, taking my right hand and putting his right hand on my waist as we started to move. "I like you."

"Mutual, big guy." We danced for a little while. "Tell me, are you Catholic?"

"Mm, no. Why?"

"Oh, no prejudice, or anything. It's the way you dance."

"The way I dance?"

"Waaaaay over there. Like you expect sister Mary Elephant to show up and rap us with a yardstick if anything but our palms touch."

"Oh." The smile broadened, the arms tightened. I ended up flat against a nice, big, warm, solid expanse of millionaire. "Is that better?"

"Infinitely. Now, let's see... hm. I can't quite get the head on your shoulder, so you'll have to settle for the cheek on the chest." I demonstrated. "Don't worry, I'm not wearing make-up, so I won't smudge you." I glanced up. "That is, of course, unless you really and truly want to be smudged. Then I could figure something out."

I felt something very interesting (no, not that, more's the pity). "Sir, your hand seems to have migrated south and found a roost on my posterior."

"Yes, it does seem to have done that. Is it time for it to fly north again?"

"Oh, I didn't say that. I was just making an observation. That area..." I bit my lip. "No, I'm not going to say it."

"Say what?"

"Never mind."

"Tell me."

"Uh uh. It's too awful. I could be deported."

"C'mon."

"Nope."

"Tell me, or I'll goose you."

"You say that like I'd try to avoid it." The hand tightened a little. "Oh, all right. But you'll regret it. I was just about to say that... I'm really ashamed I thought this up. I managed to censor myself on it, and if I can do that, it should tell you something."

"Scribe, if you don't tell me what you were going to say, I will have a double handful of gluteus maximus, and embarrass both of us."

"Huh, you forget, Tuxboy. I'm used to being embarrassed in public. But okay. I was about to say... Don't worry. That area has been designated as a wild life preserve."

Oo, that was a good one! Laughter complete with head tossed back, eyes squeezed shut, and a rumble in the chest I could feel.

"Really, Wayne." The drawl sort of cast a bucket of cold water on everything. Luthor was standing nearby, watching. "Isn't it bad form to go handling the merchandise before you pay for it?"

The impulse control switch must've been down again, or else I was feeling particularly spunky with Batman wrapped around me. I stuck my tongue out at him.

Mistake. He looked real interested. "Oh, yes, I wouldn't mind at all. Later." He strolled off, sipping champagne.

I rested my forehead on Bruce's chest again. "See if you can't have my remains shipped home somehow, would you?"