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Barbara Gordon, newly appointed Head Librarian for the Gotham City Central Library, looked into her dressing mirror and sighed. Tonight was the retirement dinner honoring her predecessor, Angela Brown, for thirty years of service. During which, her own appointment would be made official. At first glance, it should’ve been an event that she could look forward to with some enthusiasm. Unfortunately, one aspect of the evening had cast a pall over the otherwise happy event.

It was only yesterday that she learned that her escort for the dinner was going to be Billionaire Bruce Wayne. There had to be, she told herself, at least a thousand women in this city that would’ve given almost anything to trade places with her tonight and given the chance, the short haired redhead would’ve gladly done so. Unfortunately, there was no way she could do it.

It was no secret that one of the reasons she’d gotten the coveted position was due to Wayne’s position on the Library’s Board of Directors. In this city, few people said no to Bruce Wayne. If it had been up to the other Directors, the appointment would’ve gone to some political hack, or at least someone with more experience. Wayne, however, was a friend of James Gordon, Gotham’s Police Commissioner, and while he would never make the request himself, Bruce had been more than happy to intercede on behalf of his old friend’s daughter without being asked. The bottom line was, Barbara reminded herself, that regardless how she got the promotion, she was more than qualified for it. Having graduated college two years ago with a Masters in Library Science, the twenty-two year old was the most qualified person on staff at any branch.

Barbara’s main objection to being Wayne’s escort was the worry of what Wayne might be looking for in return for his support. While it was possible that he might actually have done it solely as a favor for her father, Barbara was too much of a realist to take that at just face value. Too often men of Wayne’s reputation expected a quid pro quo. While hardly a virgin, she nevertheless had no desire to become just another notch on the Playboy’s bedpost.

In the years since she’d first met Bruce Wayne, the man had been somewhat of a contradiction to her. His companies employed thousands of people, jobs that carried some of the best benefit packages around. Additionally, the Wayne Foundation, named in honor of his parents, was one of the country’s largest charitable organizations. Yet, Wayne himself seemed to be totally disinterested in any serious matter. You’d be more likely to find his name on the society pages than in the business section, usually in connection with some escapade with a model or actress. Sometimes more than one of them.

There had even been rumors over the years that Wayne led some kind of double life. That he might even be gay. More than a few eyebrows had been raised when he’d taken in a teenage boy as his ward a few years back. Political connections surely had something to do with letting a single man, who lived in a country mansion with only his butler for company, take in a minor. Still, there was definitely another side to the man, one that few people ever saw. One that she had only encountered in her other identity as Batgirl.

Five months ago, on the night Batgirl was born, Barbara had been on her way to the Policeman’s Masquerade Ball. As a surprise for her father, she had made a ‘Batgirl’ costume, never intending it to be anything other than a ‘joke’. Driving along a back road to where the Ball was being held, she’d come across a kidnap attempt on the billionaire. Not even thinking of her own safety, she’d rushed to his defense.

Years of training in various martial arts, as well as letters in more than a few college sports had left Barbara with a body as finely developed as her mind. She more than held her own against two of the hoods who’d tried to kidnap Wayne, then was surprised to discover that there was more to the man than the fluff people expected.

Wayne himself dispatched the remainder of his attackers, showing more steel than straw beneath his tuxedo. Afterwards, however, he insisted it had been just luck that had allowed him to defeat his attackers. For a while after that, Barbara had wondered if she, and a lot of other people, had misjudged Bruce Wayne. But then, having never noticed any aspect of the Wayne she’d seen that night re-emerge, she finally decided her original assumptions about him had been right after all.

Putting the history of Bruce Wayne to the back of her mind, Barbara Gordon turned her attention back to the here and now. She’d go to the dinner and despite her discomfort, have a good time. But if Mister Bruce Wayne had any thought that she was an easy lay, well he was going to be sorely disappointed.

A few miles outside of Gotham at Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne grimaced as he looked at himself in the mirror wearing a new tuxedo. It didn’t matter that every suit he owned was custom made to his exact measurements, he always felt uncomfortable in any of them. Give him his skin tight batsuit any night and he’d gladly trade the finest hotel ballroom for some dirty back alley.

Still, for Batman to function, Bruce Wayne needed a cover identity. One that no one would ever connect with the Caped Crusader. And that involved being seen as a man about town. It wasn’t so much the function that he had to attend this evening that bothered him. The Gotham Library had been a great personal interest of both his father and later himself. It wasn’t even the fact that he’d used some of his considerable political pull to get Jim Gordon’s daughter the recently opened head librarian position. She was more than qualified, despite her age; otherwise no amount of friendship would’ve swayed him. No, it was the fact that he’d been roped into going to the retirement dinner for the outgoing librarian as Barbara’s escort.

It was true of course that Barbara was both young and reasonably attractive. Her early graduation from college also attested to a remarkable intelligence. But along the way she had developed a reputation as a ice princess, the kind of woman more at home with books than the real world. Okay for some men, but not for him. Nevertheless, the two of them would be on the gossip sheets by morning, even if he were the height of propriety. At least in the case of some of those Hollywood bimbos or Society types that he linked Bruce Wayne with, he wound up bedding some of them for the night. He was, after all, a man underneath either tuxedo or cape and cowl, with a man’s needs and desires.

Some might say he used women, but just as many might say they used him. The city was full of women who’d rather say they’d spent a night with Bruce Wayne and were then tossed aside, than count themselves among those who never got the chance. Besides, even being one of the rejected did wonders for one’s career.

“Excuse me, Master Bruce,” said Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s butler, chauffeur and all around aide de camp, “but if we are to pick up Miss Gordon on the way to the dinner, we need to be going.”

“Very well, Alfred,” Bruce said with resignation, but not before glancing out of the large French windows in hope of seeing the Bat-Signal rising from the roof of Police Headquarters. “I guess I’m not going to be able to get around this one.”

“There are times when one must make sacrifices,” Alfred replied, hiding the smile that said he hardly considered spending the night with as lovely a young woman as Barbara Gordon a sacrifice.

“Where’re the Joker or Riddler when you need them?” Bruce mused as he glanced one last time out the window.

Under Alfred’s skillful driving, they arrived at Barbara Gordon’s apartment right on schedule. Bruce went up to get her and was the perfect gentleman as he complimented her on the decor.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Barbara said as she picked up her pocketbook and wrap. “I guess we’d better get going.”

“I’m sure they won’t start without us,” he assured her.

“Oh I’m sure they won’t start without you at least,” Barbara shot back, not wanting to give him an inch.

“Well Alfred’s waiting,” Bruce calmly replied, thinking that he was right the first time when he said this was going to be a long, long night.

“So tell me Bruce,” Victor Griffith asked from the other side of the table after dinner, when all the testimonials were done. “What do you make of this Batgirl the newspapers keep writing about?”

Barbara, who had been ignoring Bruce for most of the evening turned in his direction when she heard the question. The answer, she thought, should be very interesting.

“I only know what I read in the papers, Victor,” Bruce said as he wished the subject hadn’t come up.

“But didn’t this mystery woman actually save you from a kidnapping a few months ago?” the head of Griffith Industries asked.

“That’s right,” Juliet Jakes said from Bruce’s other side. “I remember reading about it in the Gazette.”

“A frightful experience,” the dark haired billionaire said, hoping to change the subject. “one that I’m sure you’ll understand that I’d rather forget.”

A mixed chorus of murmurs said that they did, and the table conversation turned to the stock market and everyone’s favorite topic - money. Everyone’s favorite except Bruce and Barbara’s. Her opinion of him had dropped even lower, and his thoughts were far from the Dow Jones Average.

From the night she’d first appeared, Batgirl had been a sensitive subject with him. He’d never even mentioned it to his closest confidants, but ever since that night, he’d had sexual dreams about the female crimefighter. For a man who could have just about any woman he wanted, in or out of costume, she occupied a considerable amount of his interest. One he hadn’t felt in anyone since the first time he’d encountered Selina Kyle, the Catwoman.

It seemed that at least one other person at the table preferred the prior topic of conversation as Sylvia Hawkins continued on the subject of Batgirl.

“I heard,” she said, “that Batgirl is actually Batman’s girlfriend.”

Both Bruce and Barbara had to try hard not to react to that comment. As graphic as some of the fantasies Bruce had about Batgirl were, they were nothing compared to the sexual attraction that Barbara felt for Batman. An attraction that went back to her teenage years when she’d spy on meetings between the Darknight and her Police Commissioner father. Many were the nights she’d played with herself, the idea of taking Batman as a lover filling her thoughts. Thoughts that more than bordered on the pornographic.

“Speaking of Batman...” another guest interrupted as he directed everyone’s attention to one of the large windows that lined the south wall.

There, reflecting off a low flying cloud, was the famous Bat-Signal. More a moral booster for the people of the city than anything else, it had long been surpassed by much more modern technology. Bruce’s cell phone went off at that moment and an innocuous automated message told him he was needed by Gotham’s Finest.

“I’m afraid I have an emergency at Wayne Enterprises, Barbara,” Bruce said apologetically. “There’s no need for you to leave of course. Alfred will stay around and drive you home when you’re done here.”

“Actually I think I’m getting a headache,” Barbara replied, “and if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just get a cab home.”

Bruce was willing to go along with anything at that moment. He was relieved that she hadn’t complained, not imagining that she wanted to get out of there and respond to the signal as much as he did.

Exiting the Library’s large exhibition hall where the dinner was being held, Bruce started to head for the main stairwell then paused. In a pinch, he could change clothes in the back seat of the limousine, but why use such cramped quarters when more spacious and just as private accommodations were available.

Heading up two levels on the side stairs, he entered the antiquities storage room on the top floor. Only a few people had the access code to open the security door, himself being one of them since he sat on the Board of Directors. It seemed tailor made for the task.

The small room was dark, the only light spilling through the skylight and window from a cloud obscured moon. To a creature of the night like Batman, it was hardly an inconvenience. He moved over to a spot near the large bay window, and there quickly shed his outer garments. The core of his skin-tight batsuit fit easily under his tuxedo, and his mask, cape and other accessories were carried in a small bag he was almost never without. It only took a minute to complete the transformation and all that was left to don was his cape and cowl.

The totally unexpected then happened. The door he had locked only a few minutes before opened and another figure stepped in. The unmasked Batman tried to blend into the shadows, but the heavens conspired against him as the moon chose that moment to reappear, flooding the room with light.

“Bruce?” a startled feminine voice cried out when she spotted him standing there.

“Barbara?” he automatically identified the voice.

“Oh my God!” Barbara Gordon cried out as she realized what her date was wearing. “Bruce, I can’t believe it, you’re Batman?”

“Barbara, I don’t have the time to explain,” Bruce said, knowing that there was no story he could fabricate that could explain away what she saw. “I’m just going to have to trust that you know how important it is that you don’t tell anyone, and deal with this later.”

“No, you don’t have the time, do you?” she said, looking out the window where the bat-signal could still be seen. “Then again, neither do I?”

To Bruce’s amazement, his reluctant date abruptly slipped out of her dress and, clad in only her bra and panties, pulled a large gym bag from one of the bottom storage shelves. A bag with a combination lock that she opened in seconds. The black and gray uniform that she pulled out of the bag resembled his own and she donned it with an ease that matched his. Gone was the quiet librarian, and in her place stood Gotham’s newest defender - Batgirl.

“Shall we go?” Batgirl said as she stood silhouetted in the moonlight.

“I guess I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?” Batman replied, somewhat stunned by the unexpected revelation.

“Not really,” Batgirl grinned.

One after the other they exited the window, to rappel down silken bat-lines to the street where Batgirl was astonished to find the Batmobile waiting. One of several actually, it had been remotely driven from a hidden midtown garage to the library by Alfred using controls in the limousine.

“I guess you have to drive too,” Batgirl grinned again as she moved around to the passenger side.

“Well it is my car,” Batman smiled.

The Darknight Damsel returned the smile as she hopped over the door and into what was normally Robin’s seat. By the time she strapped herself in, the Caped Crusader was already on the Batphone speaking to her father.

“It’s the Gotham Diamond Exchange,” Batman said as he put down the receiver and pulled out onto the city streets. “The special alarm around the Taylor Collection was tripped five minutes ago. When the patrol car in the area tried to investigate, some sort of electrified field stopped them. For now, they have the building sealed off.”

“And here I thought this night was going to be oh so boring,” Batgirl grinned as the Batmobile raced down the boulevard, covering the distance between the Library and the Exchange in under three minutes.

Gotham’s Finest had established a block wide perimeter around the Exchange that quickly parted to let the Batmobile pass. The high-powered car came to a stop at the main entrance and the ranking officers were surprised to see Batgirl emerged from inside. If the Caped Crusader took note of their surprise, he declined to offer any explanation. Instead he asked for a quick update of the situation from the on-scene commander.

“We’ve been able to determine that the electrical field only extends up to the first two floors,” Chief O’Hara said as he tried to ignore Batgirl’s presence as she looked over his shoulder at the blueprint spread open over the hood of his car. Robin, he thought, was at least mindful of his junior status enough to wait a few steps back for Batman to decide on a course of action.

“Then we should be able to enter the building through the third floor windows,” Batgirl offered as she looked up from the diagram and turned her head to the higher building only a small alley’s distance away from that goal. “I don’t see any problem getting to those ledges.”

“Except that whoever’s inside has to know that’s the only way in and will be expecting us,” Batman added, not looking up from the blueprint. He’s already taken in the buildings around them when they’d arrived and didn’t need a second look.

“Expecting you maybe,” Batgirl countered, “but not both of us. I can easily come in from the other side of the building.”

Batman nodded his head in agreement. His Robinless status had been public knowledge with the front page story this morning that showed the Boy Wonder in California with the Teen Titans. With a course of action decided, the two Gotham Guardians turned and headed for the building Batgirl had indicated.

It only took Batman a minute to reach his objective, and to her credit, Batgirl was less than another minute behind him. A small chirp of his communicator told him she was ready and, tossing a set of small flash-bang grenades in ahead of him, the Darknight crashed through the closest window.

The sound of crashing glass was instantly drowned out by that of gunfire. It had indeed been a trap but the split second’s hesitation caused by the flash-bangs was all Batman needed. The deadly bullets crashed against an empty wall. The spot where his would be executioners thought he would be, not where he actually was.

Well trained ears identified the sounds to his left as those of a Colt 45 automatic and a .38 caliber revolver, as well as the location of the men who had fired them. They would be the hired guns of course, whoever was behind this robbery would be too smart to be in the line of fire.

Before they could retarget their prey, Batman was on the closest of them. A solid right cross found a glass jaw and he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Before the thug hit the ground, Batman had somersaulted across the room, delivering a double kick to the midsection of gunman number two.

Taking only a few moments to snap Bat-cuffs on the two of them, Batman raced down the corridor to the central hall where he knew the Taylor Collection to be displayed. There, he knew, he would find his real target.

His instincts proved true once again as no sooner did he clear the large archway, he spotted the brains of the operation busy stuffing the last of the diamonds into an already full carry bag.

“I’m afraid the souvenir shop is on the first floor by the elevators,” Batman said as he scanned his surroundings and realized to his surprise that the woman in front of him was all alone. “You’re going to have to put those trinkets back.”

“Batman!” the woman in a soft white dress said, more in simple acknowledgment of his presence than any real surprise. “I was so hoping that I’d get the chance to meet you while I was in Gotham.”

The self-confidence in her voice put Batman on guard. He hadn’t survived all these years by taking things at face value. He didn’t see any obvious weapons on her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Or, there was always the possibility that she might be a meta-human.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” she said as she closed the bag and let it fall to the floor, freeing both of her hands. “My name is Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love.”

Standing five-nine with flowing blonde hair and a body as voluptuous as any of the Hollywood starlets Bruce Wayne had dated, the twenty-something woman certainly fit the physical description of the Greek goddess. Still, the man behind the mask thought it unlikely that a denizen of Olympus would need to steal diamonds.

“I can see that you don’t believe in me,” Aphrodite said, “but soon enough you will. And you shall serve me as all men shall serve me.”

“I’d be happy to have the police physiologist discuss that with you,” Batman said as he took a few steps closer, removing another set of Bat-cuffs from his utility belt, “after we take a little trip downtown.”

“I think not,” the beautiful young woman said, reaching into the folds of her gown and removing a small, crystal orb, a fragile thing reminiscent of a holiday ornament. “That you might understand, I give you my gift - the gift of love.”

As soon as the woman produced what might indeed be a weapon, Batman made ready to deflect it. The action was instinctive and he was sure he could handle any threat.

With a powerful toss that would be the envy of any minor league pitcher, Aphrodite hurled the orb at Batman at a range that made it almost impossible for her to miss. The Cape Crusader was ready, using his cape to catch the fragile projectile and sending it hurdling to the far end of the room where it shattered harmlessly.

But Aphrodite seemed to have anticipated that move and no sooner had she tossed the first orb, a second was also on its way. There was no time for Batman to react and deflect it as he had the first.

Suddenly, from out of the shadows, came another dark form, racing across the room to a point half-way between Batman and Aphrodite. Determined to stop the second projectile, Batgirl used the only obstacle she had time to employ, her body itself.

The fragile crystal exploded against her chest, releasing an expanding mist of sweet smelling gas. The sudden cloud caught Batgirl by surprise and while it dissipated almost immediately, she couldn’t help but breath in a large amount of it.

Batman raced forward to aid Batgirl, cursing himself for not anticipating the second attack. In the heartbeats it took to reach her, she had already lost consciousness and dropped to the floor. Her vitals were still good, giving hope that the orb had contained little more than a knock out gas. Effective but otherwise harmless.

“Oh what a shame, I do seem to have hit the wrong Bat,” Aphrodite giggled. “Still, this should prove interesting as well. It’s a pity I can’t stay around to watch.”

With that, Aphrodite was gone, vanished down the hall and out of sight. There was little chance, Batman knew, of the Gotham Police surrounding the building catching her. But that didn’t worry him, she would be back, they always were. There would be another chance to take her down. Meanwhile, he needed to get Batgirl out of here before the Chief’s men filled the building.

Disabling the electrical field around the lower floors, Batman directed the Batmobile by remote control to the side door in the alley. He radioed Chief O’Hara where he could find the goddess of love’s minions and then carried Batgirl off to the side entrance.

A hospital would raise too many questions so he headed instead to the Crime Alley clinic run by Dr. Leslie Tompkins. Better equipped than the emergency rooms of most hospitals, thanks to generous grants by the Wayne Foundation, the founder of the facility was a close personal friend of both Bruce Wayne and Batman. It was the friendship of the later that insured that all of the high priced equipment that filled the clinic, stayed there.

“I think your preliminary conclusion about the compound being some sort of highly concentrated knock out gas looks to be pretty much on the money,” Dr. Tompkins announced as she finished her examination of Batgirl. “Still, there are a few elements in it that I can’t yet identify and there’s no telling what their effects might be.”

“It there any chance that they might be fatal?” Batman asked.

“I don’t think so, but you can never tell with an x-factor,” Leslie continued. “While it might not be toxic in and of itself, it could have side effects on the body might prove hazardous.”

“So what would you recommend?”

“Well her vitals are quite strong and getting more so by the minute so there doesn’t appear to any danger in moving her,” the older woman said as she stripped off her rubber gloves and dropped them into a waste pail. “I would just keep her comfortable and she should wake up in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Batman smiled, relieved that his error hadn’t had fatal results.

“If there is any change in her condition, well you know how to reach me,” Leslie said as she held up a small, powerful radio-transmitter from her bag. “I must remember to thank Mr. Wayne for this and the latest batch of medical supplies that he sent over. I don’t know why he does it, but I am forever grateful.”

“You never know why a man like Bruce Wayne does anything,” Batman replied, “but I’m sure he knows what good work you do here for people that have no where else to go.”

As he carried Batgirl back to the car, Batman wished he could tell Leslie Tompkins why Bruce Wayne had become the patron saint of her clinic. On the night Thomas and Martha Wayne had been murdered, on a block not too far from here, it had been a much younger Doctor Leslie Tompkins who had held an even younger Bruce Wayne and tried to make the pain go away. The pain never did, and had led to the birth of Batman. But he had never forgotten his debt to Leslie Tompkins for trying.

With the two of them still in costume, taking Batgirl back to her own apartment didn’t seem like a good idea. For the same reasons, Bruce Wayne’s apartment in the city was also out. There was an available solution fortunately.

Using third and sometimes fourth parties as cover, Batman, as Bruce Wayne, had begun buying up small properties in and around Gotham. The idea was to create a series of safe houses he, or his associates, could use when the need arose. The closest of which, he remembered, was only a quarter mile away.

Parking the Batmobile behind a false wall in the basement garage, Batman took the still unconscious Batgirl down to the basement apartment by a back staircase. It was only a small two room apartment with minimal furnishings, but it was all they needed. Laying Batgirl out on the single bed, he turned to the kitchenette to make some coffee.

Removing his cape, cowl and gauntlets to make himself more comfortable, Batman also removed the same from Batgirl, in addition to her boots and utility belt. According to the good doctor, she should regain consciousness shortly and when she did, the two of them had a lot to talk about.

Almost as if on schedule, a low moan spilled from Batgirl’s lips a few minutes later, signaling her return to consciousness. Sitting up on the bed, she brought her hand up to her head to stop the room from spinning.

“I can only hope whoever hit me feels even worse,” Batgirl said as she steadied herself.

“I’m afraid the person who hit you got away,” Batman replied, keeping his distance while she got her bearings, “but if it’s any consolation, what hit you was meant for me and you kept that from happening.”

“Now I remember, the Diamond Exchange and Aphrodite,” Batgirl said as the room finally came into focus.

“Here, have some coffee, it should help,” Batman said as he held out a cup.

Looking up at the Caped Crusader, Batgirl saw instead the face of her date from the library dinner. Then she realized that she too was unmasked.

“Bruce Wayne, now I remember,” Barbara said as her mind shifted into her real identity mode. “The face behind the mask.”

“Barbara Gordon,” Bruce replied, “and I might say the same about you.”

“Boy, I guess the laugh’s really on me,” Barbara said as she sipped at the coffee. “And here I thought Bruce Wayne’s big secret might’ve been that he was a little light on the loafers.”

“Not quite,” Bruce replied as he finished up his own cup.

“Might I ask where I am?” Barbara asked as she took in her surroundings.

Bruce quickly explained where she was and the results of the examination Doctor Tompkins have given her. Their best course of action, he suggested, was to wait out the night and make sure there weren’t any side effects from the gas.

“Sounds good to me, cause I don’t think I’m up to going anywhere right now,” Barbara agreed. “You wouldn’t happen to have any change of clothes here would you, I left my dress back at the library and this costume is getting a little warm.”

“That I can help you with,” Bruce smiled. “The other room is actually a walk in closet with a large selection of clothes, including female attire. I’m sure some if it is in your size.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” Barbara said as she got up on her feet and after a moment’s hesitation, went off to the other room in search of a change of clothing.

Thankful that Barbara seemed perfectly normal, Bruce poured himself another cup of coffee. Gotham would have to do without Batman for the rest of the night.

Inside the walk in closet, Barbara was amazed at the wide selection of women’s clothes she found there. There were a number of outfits her size, ranging from simple sweats to an expensive dinner dress. There was even a collection of suitable undergarments.