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“Told ya he wasn’t that tall,” chuckled the voice by Ororo’s elbow.

“No,” she breathed, “he’s just right.” Good things came in small packages, sometimes. Mercy! Her feet tugged her away from the edge of the DJ booth, and some unseen force moved her across the ballroom floor. Her heartbeat thudded over the music and the hollow thuds of her boots against hard wood, and Ororo tentatively licked her lips, since they’d gone bone dry.

That gesture completed the image that Logan had of the cat that got the cream. Since he was a kid, he’d always gotten a kick out of shiny things. Hub caps, tools in his dad’s box, hood ornaments on luxury cars, the gilt edging on his mother’s heirloom ceramic figurines. Everything about Ororo gleamed. The twinkling lights of the ballroom cast their shimmer over her startlingly white hair that flowed in loose waves over her shoulders from beneath her mask. Her blue eyes were painted with a razor-precise line of liquid kohl, and mascara lengthened her curling lashes. Smoky eye shadow and the tiny rhinestones studding the corners of her lids below the brow bone made it impossible not to stare at those eyes, perhaps even drown in them. The mask itself was loosely inspired by Michelle Pfeiffer’s from the second movie, except for her hair, for which Logan was supremely grateful. The suit…where could he even begin?

Low cut, snug to the point of being painted on, and covered with zippers that tempted his fingers to tug: These were a few of his favorite things. The suit was long sleeved, and Ororo wore a pair of matching fingerless satin gloves that exposed her fingers, as well as her ruby red fingernails. Her mouth “ God, that MOUTH! “ was glossed in the same bold shade that made him want to commit a crime himself. Stealing kisses and kidnapping came immediately to mind. Belt buckled straps criss-crossed over the boots, and a low-slung hip belt had a gleaming silver buckle that winked at him. The neck plunged deeply, and the only thing keeping that sexy scrap of nothing properly closed was a long zipper. Rounded, ripe breasts filled out the front of the costume, catching the gleam of the lights in the shiny polyurethane. Her stroll managed to be elegant in the preposterously high heeled boots, her legs endless, her swinging hips superb.

A drink would take care of the sudden lack of moisture in his mouth, but he’d need a cold shower for that other little problem. Scratch that; big problem.

“Hi.” That was it? Hi? Who’s voice was that coming out of her mouth, and why did it sound so squeaky to her ears?

Logan finally got his lips to work. “You promised me a Wonder Woman suit.”

“I remember more accurately that I said something like ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ That could mean just about anything. As busy as I’ve been, just be glad I didn’t pull on my red underpants, yank my blanket off my bed, tie the corners around my neck and call it good.”

“What was stopping ya?”

“It was chilly tonight.” She reached out to lightly stroke the pointed ears of his cowl in appreciation. “This is better than I could have ever expected. I like this.”

“I don’t do this for just anyone,” he grumbled, but a hint of a smile crept into the corner of his mouth. He grasped her wrist and turned his lips to her open palm, nipping it. She shivered, and a rush of tingles gave her goosebumps beneath the vinyl.

“I’m glad as hell you did it for me. Damn.” She looked him over slowly. “That’s not one of those cheesy muscle inserts under the shirt. That’s all you.”

“Yup.”

Yum.

“I said it once, and I’ll say it all night: I like this.”

“Still haven’t told me what happened to the Wonder Woman suit.”

“Nothing happened with it at all. I scrolled through about ten to twelve pages of links to costumes on Google, eBay, Ubid, Yahoo Shopping and more random costume site pop-ups than you could shake a stick at. I hit every Halloween fly-by-night store in the city, and even a few in the Bronx! I almost got mugged in the garment district, and a guy tried to sell me a Rolex that fell off of the truck. Almost all of them had the same costume: polyester with a stick-on gold decal on the chest, plastic bracelets, foam rubber tiara that looks like a cheap Frisbee, and it was held up by these chintzy little straps. The boots were just these ugly long red foam cuffs that you wrap around your leg with Velcro and hook the elastic stirrup under your shoe. That’s only a step above the completely plastic get-up with the plastic mask in a cardboard box that my momma bought me at the supermarket when I was seven.”

“Maybe you could’ve found one that someone wore to a comic convention,” Logan pointed out.

“Not for less than my arm, my leg, and my future firstborn. I’ve gotta eat this month, Logan.”

“Y’know I’m willing ta feed ya.”

“That was fun, by the way” Ororo admitted. “I had a great time with you, Caped Crusader.”

“It was almost the Man of Steel.” Ororo sputtered with giggles.

“You’re kidding!”

“Nuh-uh. I toyed with a few different ideas, even just wearing my shop coveralls, or even Nate’s, since technically, I wouldn’t be coming to this little tea party as myself if I did that. I peeked at the superhero costumes, and darlin’, I couldn’t picture myself in those silly friggin’ red briefs and tights!” For a sinful second, Ororo pictured him in briefs and nothing else and blushed. “And so sue me, kiddo, Batman’s just cooler than Supes, let’s face it.”

“So am I forgiven?”

“Depends on a few things.” He took her hand and curled it around his arm, leading her to the punch bowl.

“Like?”

“Are ya done with everything ya needed t’do for tonight, planning and fixing things?”

“Nope.” Ororo eyed him thoughtfully as he filled two cups with the murky sherbet punch. “I get to play auctioneer and game show hostess, and tell everyone about their ‘fabulous prizes.’ Wish somebody would shoot me,” she muttered.

“How’d ya get roped into that gig?”

“Someone drew me the short straw.” Someone who was currently cringing at the suspected fat grams of every appetizer on the banquet table. “Originally I just had to be on point to tally up the names of the winners and the closing bids. Looks like I’m a Jane of all trades instead.”

“Or maybe Wonder Woman’s hidin’ under that mask.” Logan took a tentative sip of his punch. “Shit, what’s in this stuff?”

“I didn’t ask. At least we got it for a better price with this caterer than the one our management firm almost hired.”

“How much of this did they put together?”

It was a loaded question. “Eh.” Ororo shrugged noncommittally and swizzled a bobbing ice cube around and around in her cup with her fingernail. It was like asking how birds held up the sky. “The firm doesn’t always like to get their hands dirty. Someone had to.”

“I don’t mind gettin’ my hands dirty, most of the time, myself,” he mused. He set his cup down and perused the trays of finger foods and treats. He reached for a thin chocolate peanut butter pattie from a perfectly arranged semi-circle of candies on an orange platter, disrupting the orderly display. “Gonna ask ya to do one more thing for me tonight, darlin’, as if ya didn’t already have enough on yer plate.” He studied the sweet, holding it nimbly between his forefinger and thumb.

“Like what?”

“Taste this and tell me if it’s any good,” he urged. His eyes probed hers, full of desire and heat and particularly roguish peering out from the dark mask.

“I thought you didn’t like sweets.”

“It all depends. Sometimes I get in that mood for something special.” The smooth disk of rich, silky milk chocolate edged closer, teasing her plump lower lip. “Open up.” The edges of her straight, even white teeth grazed his thumb as she indulged, biting deeply into the candy.

“Mmmmm. Mmmmmm. Mmm-hmmm. This is worth your while. Go for it.” She plucked the remainder of the melting pattie from his grip watched him through hooded eyes as his lips nibbled it at first, then snapped it up, sucking off the last vestiges of the chocolate from her skin. Ororo felt the pull of his lips and tongue all the way into her feminine center, nearly coming undone at the thought of how his mouth would feel against any of her hot zones. The rasp of the multiple zippers’ metal teeth on her costume chafed and enflamed her flesh, and her skin felt too tight. “Speaking of getting dirty…look at this.” She nodded to the minute smudge of chocolate staining the tip of his glove, mingled with a vestige of her red lipstick.

“Can’t take me anywhere,” he murmured. “Napkin?”

“Let me get that.” She plucked a napkin from the elaborate fan of them spread across the table and took his hand, easing the smirch from his glove with gentle but thorough rubbing. “Much better.”

“I get the feeling everything’s better with you around.” His tone was pensive and warm. The thought tickled the back of her mind that Maybe I’m better when you’re around. Clumsy tumbles over office furniture aside, that is.

Off-guard. He’d taken her completely off-guard. All of the old walls that she’d fortified following bad set-up dates, her ugly break-up with Jonathan, and the let’s-get-to-the-action, noncommittal looks she’d gotten from men who asked for her cell phone number over the past couple of years felt unstable and close to crumbling. If she had to tell the truth, Ororo would have admitted that it was damn frightening to feel that way.

Feeling this way about Logan so soon frightened her.

Her eyes searched the room for Anna, Scott, or anyone else that could possibly handle the auction in her stead, but to her amusement, Scott was striking up a conversation with the Queen of Hearts herself, convincing her to eat one of the dismembered finger cookies. His eyes were glued to the redhead, and he didn’t look like anyone could pry him loose any time soon. Anna and Remy were cutting a rug and making a spectacle of themselves, and once again, she hated to step in the way of two people having a fantastic time.

This was going to have to be one helluva fast auction, she decided.

“Any idea what time it is?”

Logan pushed down his glove to check his watch. “Five ta eight. Why, ya gotta coach that’s gonna turn into a pumpkin outside?” His dimple came out when he smiled.

“Nope. I just have to go make like Vanna White and announce all of the ‘fabulous prizes’ that we have to offer for the good of the shelters and convince anyone here with money to open their wallets.”

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” he encouraged. “And Ororo?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Hurry back.” His fingertip chucked her under the chin, and she felt that fuzzy glow again. Damn, it was gonna haunt her all night, trying not to think about the effect his touch, even one that brief, had on her. The tail of her costume swung rhythmically back and forth, waving goodbye to him as she made her way to the dais. She spoke to the manager of the conference hall and let him know that things were about to get underway. She stepped up to the loud speaker and announced, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to announce that the auction is about to begin to benefit the Alternatives Shelter Network. I welcome you to adjourn to the lounge to your left, through those doors, where the bidding will begin. Thank you.” The music dimmed in volume, and the chatter shifted and moved as people began to file into the adjacent conference room. Ororo’s eyes beckoned to him as she excused herself to the crowd at large, winding her way through it to retrieve the list of items and test the sound system again. Logan was about to follow her when a silky voice stopped him, accompanied by a slender hand dropping onto his shoulder.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet,” a platinum blonde in a witchy looking outfit observed. Something about her voice ran a cold chill down his neck. Weird. “My name’s Emma Frost; I’m the director of Inner Circle Management.” She nodded to the brunette next to her whose smile reminded him of Ursula in the Little Mermaid movie. “This is Selene Gallio.”

“Charmed,” Selene assured him. Or, maybe she was telling him how to react to their presence, he really wasn’t certain if it was a statement or a demand.

“And you are?” Emma’s expression was expectant as her eyes roved over him, sizing him up. Logan realized he hadn’t been forthcoming with his name and moved to correct the error.

“James Howlett.” He didn’t expect his nickname to mean much, and he only liked hearing it used by people he knew and liked. Particularly when it was murmured by a pair of sensuously full lips in a smoky voice.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Selene glanced at Emma, whose smile was still glued in place. “Ohhh, that’s right. Howlett. Howlett Auto Parts and Repair. Emma, this is one of our sponsors.”

“More or less. My business kind of is, at any rate.”

“Isn’t that nice, you OWN a business,” Emma purred, as though she had stumbled over a gold mine. She wasn’t loosening her grip on his arm, he noticed with some chagrin.

“And look what interesting taste you have in costumes,” Selene added. “Makes you look so dark and dangerous.” She wasn’t so coy; she laid her palm flat on his chest, right over the bat logo. Logan smothered a sigh.

There were different approaches a man could take in instances like these, when two beautiful yet vain, intrusive women were waylaying him in a crowded social setting:

a. He could wing it with standard lines of bullshit to be polite: “Have you tried the finger cookies yet? How about a spider? Kooky looking, aren’t they?”
b. He could beg the need to find the men’s room, except that he’d have to hide out there a good part of the night if they sought him out again; Emma looked like the persistent, pushy type.
c. He could make an excuse such as “You’ll have to pardon me, I’m allergic to fake people, I’m having a slight flare up right now. Kind of like a rash…let me go get my ointment. Surely you understand.”
d. Give in to the fright-flight impulse that was making the vein in his temple pound a mad tattoo and make a beeline for the conference room. Going back out from where he came in wasn’t an option. He came to spend time with Ororo.

What would Batman do? A voice in the back of his head muttered He wouldn’t be wastin’ time on this shit, bub. Up and at ‘em. You saw Ororo in that get-up, go get that woman!

“I’m going to go watch the bidding. Mingle. Perhaps…do some networking,” he lied, at least in regard to the last hastily added bit. It seemed to work. Emma’s mouth settled into agreeable lines.

“Of course!”

“Maybe we’ll see more of you as the night rolls on!”

God help me.

“Ladies,” he nodded, turning on his heel. His cape swished out behind him in a tidy swirl, offering them a too-fleeting glimpse of his backside.

“Meeeee-ooow. Selene lightly fanned herself.

“Please tell me you have his business number tucked away somewhere.”

“It just so happens to be on that handy little spreadsheet file that Ororo’s been maintaining so diligently for us,” Selene chuckled, her voice full of smug triumph.

“She’s a gaudy little thing, but she has her uses,” Emma demurred. Her eyes flicked over the banquet again as she murmured “D’you suppose the chicken wings are free range?” Selene peered at them and shrugged with indifference.

Logan nudged his way through businessmen and their wives, wrinkling his nose slightly at the overwhelming mixture of expensive colognes, hairspray, and oppressive perfumes. The faint fumes of alcohol tickled his nostrils as he approached the hosted bar to order a Jack Daniels. He held his drink protectively against his chest and edged himself along the wall to a seat as close to the tiny stage as possible. He wanted an unimpeded view.

Ororo’s voice was clear and free of the usual down-home inflections that colored her speech when they chatted over lunch; Logan found that he missed them. Ororo read from the handful of cue cards printed on heavy stock, sifting them through her gloved hands. “This handblown milk glass vase, contributed by Maximoff Glassworks, would make a lovely addition to any room done in modern décor…I would like to open the bidding at twenty dollars.” Paddles began to fly up, and Ororo began to match bidding amounts with faces at a surprisingly quick pace. As the evening wore on, and items closed, Logan noticed Ororo efficiently typing in numbers and other notes into a tiny Blackberry that was resting on the podium. Gotta love a multitasker.

So…if she was handling all of the details of the event, and Emma and the other chick worked for the management company “ Emma was the director, no less “ what the hell was Ororo doing everything herself for? Something about it just didn’t sit right with him. He brushed that thought aside and continued to watch her, enjoying the sound of her voice and graceful gesticulations, made that much prettier with her long red nails glittering in the spotlight. The whiskey stung as it went down but warmed him as he reflected on the kiss on the curb. She hadn’t held back, not one bit, and it thrilled him that she gave herself up to it full measure. They’d just met, he reasoned.

Perhaps she was insane…that would be a damned shame. She tasted so sweet and felt like silk. The really hot, impulsive ones were always a little crazy, sometimes even completely around the bend. Logan couldn’t shake the quiver in his gut, though, when he’d reached for her, and found that little spark of excitement that lit up her face when she realized what he wanted to do. No shocked protests or noises of confusion muttering from those gorgeous lips of hers, no sir, just a small, sighing hum of contentment as he made his mouth at home.

Logan always questioned it when life threw him something pretty and shiny that, at first glance, he didn’t have to work for. Good things never just fell into your lap. That wasn’t how things worked. There was always a price. There was always a stabbing, clenching pain in his chest when it all just went to hell.

Jessan had been impulsive. Her skin was like toffee and her eyes were mischievous onyx chips, and she had this funny little way of letting her hair ripple in a long satin wave when she tossed it off of her shoulders in impatience. She was always impatient with him, which amused him when they’d first met at school. “You’re always dragging your feet to class, Logan. We’re going to be late to the movie at the student union hall, Logan. Kiss me already, Logan. I’ve been waiting all night for you to come home, Logan.” They’d kissed on their first date after meeting at a fraternity mixer and getting a buzz on Keystone beer that was all foam by the time they reached the keg. He dimly remembered pumping the spout for her, feeling chivalrous at the time, but he just liked having a minute to look her over, returning her enigmatic smile.

At first, she’d lit a fire under him. She was his day planner, reminding him of term papers that he had to turn in and financial aid paperwork that he had to file. She tacked his monthly bills to the refrigerator door with Disney magnets to remind him to pay them. She was a tiger in bed and woke him with the sensation of her hot, wet mouth tugging on his nipple and her hands roaming his sleep-warmed flesh beneath his t-shirt. Some mornings would find him stirring from his dreams with her impaled on top of him, riding an erection that he’d had no part in creating as she took what she wanted from him, and he told himself that there was nothing wrong with her asserting herself.

Then came the complaints. It was time to pay the piper. Things that seemed too good to be true almost always were, and her reminders became nagging questions. “You know this is our six month anniversary, right? You weren’t really going out to play poker with your dickheaded friend Mac tonight, were you? You promised me you were coming to my parents’ place for dinner this weekend.” And on and on and on and on… Every time he turned around, Jessan pointed out something else he was doing wrong. Logan began to wonder what he was doing right, and why she stayed. “I don’t know what you’d do without me, Logan.” He was dying to find out.

She satisfied both their curiosities when he came home to his crappy student apartment and found all of the dishes, small items of furniture, CDs, and refrigerator magnets gone in a clean sweep, and a note on his computer monitor telling him to fuck off.

Carol had been a different story. Logan wasn’t much for getting poetic and sappy and all that shit, but her hair really did look like spun gold the first day he saw her lying stretched out on the lawn of the campus outside the dorms, with her flannel shirt tucked like a pillow under her head. They’d occasionally made eye contact in the halls, since some of their classes were in the same buildings, but he never had the chance to speak with her until she’d stopped him to let him know that he’d dropped his novel for his least favorite English class. He’d been about to tell her it was no big loss, and he didn’t want it back, but when her fingers grazed his as she handed it back, he’d almost been tempted to drop it again in the hopes that she’d bend to pick it back up. Anything for another quick peek down that gauzy blue blouse. For someone relatively slender and athletic, she still managed to be stacked, and she had a few tiny freckles where the neckline of her blouse dipped, telling Logan she spent a lot of time out in the sun.

She had been the one to lean in and kiss him full on the mouth after their first date, which had been an action movie that he never expected her to want to see. Logan couldn’t believe his luck. Again, too good to be true.

Logan wore himself out with Carol. Always restless, always on the run, busy, busy, busy…she never let him just catch his breath. Every weekend there were always canoes to be paddled, tents to be pitched, or baseballs to be pitched. “Let’s go four-wheeling, you’ll LOVE it!” Her eyes gleamed like blue topaz as she pressed her breasts against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging from him, and he was lost. Logan had broken his nose when he accidentally flipped the damn thing over going over a grassy knoll.

After the cartilage healed up, and pretty nicely, at that, the nagging began, much as it always did. “I don’t just wanna sit around on my butt doing NOTHING. Why don’t you ever want to do anything, Logan? Don’t you want to do ANYTHING with your life?” It was never just a question. It was always a tirade, even a demand. When he wouldn’t go along with whatever she had planned, she had ten thousand reasons why he was wrong. Why he was wasting his life.

He decided not to give her any more of his life that he knew he would never get back. The bridge of his nose still ached just thinking about it.

Silver Fox had put him through his paces and taught him how to question something seeming too perfect. Black eyes full of laughter and long black hair that fell like a shining curtain over them, tenting their faces when they made love haunted him for a while after she was gone. Logan couldn’t see a future without her once, until she shoved that lonely future right under his nose. Circumstances had taken a nosedive after his mother announced that she was leaving his father.

Things had been uneasy under the Howlett’s roof for some time; Logan didn’t argue that fact for a minute. His father retreated farther into his business and spent more and more time nagging him to finish school in the hopes that he could come to work at the shop, since his older brother John had never shown the interest nor the mechanical aptitude. Logan wanted to get a degree in something he enjoyed and that he’d be proud to tell people about. Architecture had been his first love, since he loved the idea of seeing a building from the initial concept, literally, take shape.

Silver Fox was a nursing major moving at a leisurely pace through her program, enjoying the occasional party here and there and proving that college was “the best four or five years of your life.” With his mother’s unexplained absences on weekend trips and his father’s face appearing more haggard and gaunt each time he returned home for the holidays, it was becoming harder to just throw caution to the wind. Caution was strangling him. They’d kissed on the second date, then kissed goodbye on her front doorstep the next morning. Logan was addicted to the sound of her voice whispering in his ear and the sense of being easy in his skin when he was with her.

Life had a way of getting in the way of things, sometimes. He’d found his father pale and clammy, clutching a bottle of aspirin and complaining about pain in his jaw, which he clenched rigidly as he explained “Just…having a bad…day, Jamie.” He didn’t answer his son’s frantic question about where his mother was as he ran for the phone to call the ambulance. Logan wrapped his father in a blanket and cradled his head in his lap while they waited for the paramedics.

Turned out that Jonathan Howlett’s lifetime career of bending over engines and holding himself in myriad bad postures had left his circulatory system in horrible shape; that was to say nothing of the years of too much coffee, stress, red meat and unhappiness. His children, his shop, and the pride he had felt over a lovingly maintained home were the only things that kept him going once Elizabeth had moved out of their bedroom and into the guest bed down the hall.

Jonathan later admitted to his younger son in the hospital, while tucked under pristine white blankets, “She told me that the only thing she ever loved about me anymore was all of you, the children.” His eyes were bloodshot and glazed with a sheen of tears. Logan clenched his fist and ground it into his forehead as he listened to his father pour out his mother’s desertion. “She didn’t want anything. Didn’t want any part of me anymore. None of it made her happy. Not the Lincoln that I bought for her on our anniversary “ thirty-five friggin’ years, Logan, she threw away thirty-five years! “ not the house, not all those damn Hummel figurines and other poncy, expensive crap cluttering every shelf in the house. She just couldn’t stand my presence anymore. She just stepped around me every chance. Bridge club, choir practice “ or so she said “ any excuse to get out of the house.” He doubled over with a wracking cough; Logan leaned over to adjust the cannula strapped to his face and poured him a glass of water. His hands were shaking as he held it to his lips to drink. “I know you’ve got to get back to class, Jamie…”

“Like hell I do,” he growled. “I don’t gotta do a damned thing ‘cept be here.” Silver said she understood when he explained it to her. A few weeks, maybe a month, to get his dad settled in at home and take him to his appointments. They exchanged calls almost every night. She offered to come see him and help with things around the house, but he didn’t want her to worry about the gas there, about missing her microbiology mid-terms.

It didn’t bother him too much when the calls became a little less frequent on her end. And brief. Miss you. Miss you, too. Can’t wait til you come home. Things are starting to settle down a little…Uh-huh. Kisses. B’bye. Nursing was a tough major. Her anatomy class was a real kick in the pants; Logan told himself there were other things he wanted to talk about than hearing how the chloroformed frog’s heart was still beating, and that the leg muscle twitched when she tapped it with a probe. Talk of death frightened him and fed his resentment of his mother, and he didn’t have the heart for it. For any of it. He wanted his family back, but he’d settle for his father.

Silver was slightly surprised when he called her to let her know that he was applying to the university for a leave of absence. “You have to do what you have to do, Logan.” Sounded simple enough, sensible enough. Accepting enough. Logan allowed himself to place too much faith in those phone calls.

Some guy named Vic answered Silver’s apartment door, smelling like Logan’s aftershave that he’d left for himself in her bathroom and wearing his towel draped around his hips. Big, brawny blonde guy that looked like he drank his beer from a 7-11 Big Gulp cup. Silver ran to the door, looking like she’d buttoned half the buttons of her henley wrong as she yanked the door from Vic’s hand and told him to go back to the kitchen. Breathlessly she mumbled something about not expecting him back so soon. Logan nodded curtly and asked “Can I at least have my CDs back?” Her face was blank except for a quiver of the corner of her mouth before she turned to do as he asked. “Just leave my stuff in a box at my place with whoever answers the door.” Logan punched his Eagles disc into his car stereo and let it wail as he navigated to the dean’s office. He didn’t have time to play these games or deal with this shit anymore.

He’d made a point of not playing the game since.

Ororo’s voice snapped his attention back to the stage. Some business named Lensherr-Dane Fine Art and Framing Gallery had donated one helluva homely painting of oil paint-daubed lily pads that had been slashed and slathered onto the canvas with a pallet knife. Ororo kept the opening bid relatively low, which seemed to be the way to go.

“Do I hear fifty? Fifty for this…unique, one-of-a-kind piece?” Logan grinned at her skilled turn of a phrase. One-of-a-kind. Logan heard a woman behind him muttering that it would cover the damaged patch of drywall in the guest room, and her mother-in-law was the only one who ever stayed there, anyway.

“Thank you to the Sleeping Beauty in the back, I now have sixty. Going once.” Ororo plugged more winning numbers into her Blackberry. As the next item was moved onto the stand, Ororo exhaled a silent gust of relief that it was almost over, and she peered through the blinding haze of the spotlight. A small movement caught her eye down front, in the seat closest to the wall. Logan. He rested his whiskey glass against his knee, still looking irresistible in his costume, and still staring at her with a hint of…hunger.

He winked at her. Her smile bloomed across her lips, and Ororo didn’t doubt for a moment that she looked completely thunderstruck.

The vouchers for a free tune-up and lube refill from his auto shop were the last item up for bid, along with the car detailing from Rory Campbell’s garage down the street. Ororo felt a twinge in her lower back from standing at the podium all night, but the totals from the combined auction and ticket sales had been staggering.

She opened the bidding at twenty dollars. Sleeping Beauty bid twenty-five. Pudgy Supergirl raised her paddle at thirty. Anna and Remy raised the paddle shared between them at thirty-five. Bidders became more hesitant as the price climbed. An impeccably manicured hand raised the paddle in a flowing movement at seventy-five. Ororo squinted as she made out Emma’s smug look. Selene casually raised her own paddle when Ororo asked for eighty. The minutes dragged on as tentative bids from the crowd were topped by the two witches three rows back. Emma gave Selene a quelling look, which she disdainfully ignored.

“Going once. Going twice…”Selene’s paddle didn’t rise again. “Sold to…the White Queen. Please collect your prize before the end of the festivities.” Ororo thanked those gathered for the success of the charity ball and excused herself.

With high-end collectibles and other desirable prizes at stake, why would Emma bid so much on car repair vouchers? She owned a spanking new Bentley with a factory warranty…Ororo’s eyes drifted back to “Batman” sucking a stray ice cube between his lips as he swallowed the last of his whiskey.

Heifer!

Ororo snapped her Blackberry shut and jammed the stylus into the slot. She handed it to the facilities manager, asking him to deliver it to the Alternative center on Monday, before she descended from the stage. Emma and Selene were headed straight for Logan. Partygoers swarmed the state to arrange a time to pick their prizes up or have them sent via courier. Ororo lost sight of Logan’s telltale bat’s ears, until a rich baritone rasped into her ear, “Let’s go, darlin’, ya owe me a dance.”

“I owe you a few,” she breathed, letting him lead her by the elbow out the side exit.

They both drew in a hearty lungful of cool, fresh air in the main corridor, thankful to be free from the close press of bodies and too many colognes duking it out in that space. Logan’s hand drifted down her arm and found her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

“Hey Ororo, haven’t seen much of you tonight.” Scott eyed her costume with interest. “I’ve really gotta remedy that. Wow. You look hot.”

“I agree with the last part,” Logan deadpanned, tightening his grip on her hand. He waited for the introduction.

“Logan, this is Scott Summers from Accounting. Don’t let the costume fool you, he’s a pussycat.” Scott gave her a mock glare that drifted into a smirk. Scott had indulged in a surprisingly extravagant knight’s costume, complete with chain mail, heavy gloves and boots, and a sword and scabbard adorned with gaudy glass jewels. The Dark Knight sized him up with a blank stare, until the Queen of Hearts tugged him away.

“You promised me a dance,” Jean insisted.

“I promised you a few,” Scott chuckled. “Later, Ororo.”

“Gimme a sec to wet my whistle, and we can head out there, too,” Ororo suggested, watching Logan’s shoulders relax as Scott and Jean took their leave.

“Wet your whistle…hold still.” Logan’s hand crept up and cupped her jaw, tilting it at an angle to suit him, and he kissed her long and deep. Logan captured the tiniest trace of chocolate inside the seam of her lips that remained from the tidbit they shared.

“I meant…a drink. But…that’s a nice start.” She covered his hand with hers, leaning her cheek into his palm. Logan grabbed a flute of champagne from a circulating tray. She took a grateful gulp, then released the goblet when he reached for the stem, downing the rest, and covering the red imprint her lips made on the glass. He set the empty goblet on a side table and they made their way to the floor.

As Ororo’s body moved to the music, Logan saw her in her element, doing what came naturally. His body responded to the rhythm of her hips; he was enthralled as her torso rippled, isolating her shoulders, breasts, ribs and taut abdomen in undulating, controlled ripples. His arm snaked out, pulling her close, and his body fell in step with hers, succumbing to the pulse and flow of her dance. Ororo’s hands eased up his arms, exploring the contours and smooth muscles of his shoulders before she laced them behind his neck.

The music swelled and thudded through them. The Jack Daniels flowed through his veins as Ororo’s champagne fizzed its way through her system. She wasn’t drunk by any stretch, but Ororo rode the giddy, heady buzz of Logan’s presence, of his touch. One song blended into another. Then another. There was barely a sliver of space between them as the music played on.

“He’s not very tall, is he?” Selene observed, sipping her fuzzy navel.

“Good things come in small packages,” Emma reminded her. She bit into the green apple wedge in her martini. She’d already had her car tuned up a month ago at the dealership, but who cared?

Ororo drifted to a dizzying stop as a slow song wound its way around them. D’Angelo wailed “How Does it Feel?” and Ororo wanted to cry out that it feels amazing. Ororo’s voice sounded desperate to her own ears as she murmured “Let’s get out of here” against Logan’s mouth. She felt his slight nod as she caught the mellow aftertaste of his whiskey. They stayed just long enough for the song to wind down to its last soulful notes before Ororo retrieved her purse.


The lights in the parking lot were dim, and Logan ignored the latecomers straggling in as they reached his car. He’d no sooner unlocked her side of the car before he drew her against him. Ororo felt herself turned until her butt smacked up against the door, and Logan stepped between her slightly parted legs for closer access, zeroing in on her tempting mouth. Any passerby would have been struck by the irony of their costumes and the disparity of their heights before acknowledging that there was something about them together that just worked. Logan drank her essence with indefinable thirst, spurred on by the sounds of need clawing their way out of her throat. Ororo’s deep, silky voice thrummed through him as the kisses turned hot, and it formed words as his lips traveled down her jaw.

“My apartment’s nothing to write home about,” she moaned as Logan’s teeth found her favorite spot on her neck, “but my bed’s pretty comfortable.”

“I’m that close ta just takin’ ya in the back seat of my car, darlin’, it’s gonna be hard for me ta wait that long.” His hands were stroking her and threading through her hair.

“I need to see all of you,” she informed him.

“Your place it is, then.” He nibbled her earlobe, steaming it and turning her knees to jelly in the process. “Don’t mean it’s gonna be easy,” he grumbled. He pulled her away from the door and opened, helping her inside. She automatically scrambled to open his side, yanking him in by the hand. Another long, feverish kiss was all that they could content themselves with before Logan turned on the ignition. The sounds of Otis Redding filled the car at low volume, occasionally broken by Ororo’s shaky road directions. Logan’s hand on her thigh was making it difficult to think.

Logan parked in the lot behind Ororo’s brownstone and silently admired the tidy street and the character of the building itself. His hand gripped her waist as they made their way up the stairs, him following a step behind to admire the curves of her backside in the shining vinyl, tail and all. He grinned for what seemed the umpteenth time that night. He pressed himself against her back, lifting tendrils of her hair away from her neck to taste her again, and Ororo trembled as she tried her key in the lock. “That’s wicked! Please, don’t stop!” Now who was making it hard???

“This’ll go a lot smoother inside,” he mumbled behind her ear. She finally managed to cram the key into the lock and gave the knob a savage twist, and they practically fell inside. Logan kicked the door shut behind him and they stumbled against the wall. He snagged the tip of his glove between his teeth and jerked it off, caressing her cheek. “You’re so soft,” he whispered, kissing her again, savoring how she looked in the faint glow of the street lamps shining in through her living room window. As his finger skimmed the corner of her mouth, she turned her face just a fraction and nibbled it, and Logan was more determined to get her out of that costume. His fingers worked themselves under the domino and urged it off, letting it fall to the floor. “There you are!” He grinned in triumph at the vision she made, with her long white hair tumbling loose in flowing waves.

“I’m right here.” She went to work on his other glove, tugging at it and flinging it over his shoulder.

“I’ve been dying to play with this all night,” he admitted, fingering the metal zipper pull between her breasts.

ZZZZZZIIIIPPPPPPP.

The cool air hit her flesh, making her tingle. Through the widening gap that he’d begun, Logan took in the sight of her smooth mocha skin and the hint of red satin. A tiny heart-shaped plastic clasp hooked together between her breasts, making his fingers itch to relieve it of its burden and do more mischief. He traced one fingertip idly between the valley of her breasts, down her abdomen, making her shiver. She reached for his mask, but he leaned back. “Uh-uh. You first. I’ve been waiting all night for this. For you.” A warmth spread through her stomach at his words. “I want you outta this damned thing.” She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck while he continued to work. Her prop whip hit the floor with a faint plop, and he fiddled with the belt buckle, yanking it off with a swish, sending it flying. He surprised her as he bent down and wrapped his arms firmly around her waist, lifting her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What on earth…?”

“Gonna be tricky to get those boots off, kiddo.” He plopped her on the couch so her long legs were dangling over the arm. “I need room to work.” The buckles on the boots were snapped open with casual ease, and he grunted slightly, tugging on the boots that seemed to mold themselves to her flesh. They came off with some effort, and the vinyl encasing her legs practically squeaked in protest. He blew cool air between her toes, and damp heat flushed into her core. Her moan was ragged as he kneaded the ball of her foot with his thumb.

“I knew…you could manage it,” she hissed. “Logan…you’re very good at that.”

“I try.” He mouthed her big toe teasingly and she nearly came apart. Logan rose to his feet, still looking dangerous as he loomed over her in his costume. “Damn, darlin’, don’t look at me like that.”

“C’mere,” she suggested, edging back toward the other end of the couch. Logan unhooked his cape and let it flutter to the floor behind him, and his fingers dug under his mask, shucking it; the latex made a small sucking sound as it was pulled away. Logan scrambled over the edge of the couch, between her parted legs, crawling his way toward her. His body grazed hers as he eased himself against her, into her waiting embrace, and he felt hot and solid against the exposed parts of her flesh when he kissed her. Ororo couldn’t recall how she got out of her costume; frenzied hands roaming her and ragged whispers in her ear pleading for her not to let go of him came to mind. Her hair fanned out over one of the throw cushions. Out of the blue, Ororo leaned over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote.

“Plannin’ on watching the game, darlin’?” Logan’s face was incredulous and amused.

“Nope.” She clicked play, and the red power button lit up on her stereo console. She smiled up at him as the compact disc was fed from its carriage into the slot with a sliding sound, and she set the remote down before pulling him back down to her, clutching handfuls of his dark hair. His belt buckle was digging into her bare belly, and she wrestled it off with surprising ruthlessness. He chuckled at her tenacity.

Ororo had the stereo set to “shuffle,” and the songs played in random order. She silently thanked God when her favorite one came on first:

It's been so long since I have got you lady
Since I have had yo brown legs wrapped around me
The smell of she just drives me crazy
Imagine what the sight of her can do

“Let me see you,” Ororo husked, stroking the stubble along his jaw, pressing her fingertip into the indent of his chin. He kissed her one more time before he reared up, straddling her, and tugged the hem of his shirt up one-handed. Ororo’s mouth went dry at the sight of his broad chest and solid pectorals, covered with a downy layer of dark hair. It tapered down to a happy trail that kissed his navel and lead below his waistband. A sigh of approval escaped her as she ran her hands down his washboard stomach. “This body of yours is your best kept secret, Logan. Those coveralls of yours are almost a crime, covering all this up.”

“Can’t fix cars in my birthday suit,” he reasoned. Reluctantly he righted himself, pulling her up by the hand. She led him to the bedroom, leaving the door open so they could hear the music. More streetlight infiltrated the room from between the slats of Ororo’s mini-blinds, illuminating her lithe form and wild, tousled hair. Her blue eyes glowed up at him as she lowered herself to her knees, encouraging him to balance himself against her shoulder while she removed his boots. Her lips nibbling him made the erection he already had strain and twitch as she hooked her fingers into the belt loops of his leggings and dragged them down. Her hands skimmed his taut thighs and tickled the backs of his knees as he stepped out of them, and his hands clamped around her upper arms, pulling her flush against him. The height difference between them wasn’t so stark with both of them in their bare feet, he was delighted to discover. He bent and unsnapped the tempting little heart-shaped clasp and was awed by the perfect breasts that greeted him, their tips puckering under his gaze.

Suitelady don't worry
Ain't no end to what this ring wants to begin with you
I've waited; suitelady,
Cause no man can tear asunder -
What my love can groove

“Beautiful,” he pronounced, his eyes sweeping over her body with bare admiration and awe before they bore back into hers. “I want you.” Ororo nodded her assent before they collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs. His kisses were liquid, drugging and thorough. He worshipped every inch of her flesh, letting his tongue swirl against the pulse of her wrist and tease the bend of her elbow, dragging it against the sensitive, soft skin of her upper arm, making her shiver the entire time. He whispered how beautiful she was, how good she tasted, how soft and smooth she felt against her shoulders, plying his words around the sweet feel of her nipple captured between his teeth. She squirmed against him, giving up on words of her own, with the exception of two: “Yes, Logan.”

“Yesssss!” She lost herself in his touch as his mouth sought out the undercurves of her breasts, as he nipped her ribs playfully with his lips.

“Yes, Logan!” His skilled fingers caressed her with care, making the nubbin atop her folds slick and damp, straining for more.

“Logan…oh, Lo…gan.” Well, technically that was three words. There was no more need for talk; their cries were guttural and mingled, soaring above the music as he thrust home. Ororo’s wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on for dear life as he loved her, moving with solid, heavy thrusts, filling her. Her slick heat enveloped him, milking groans and curses from him as his hips rose and dropped in a rhythm that was overpowering. Her lips dropped open, and long, keening sounds of fulfillment were rocked from her between frantic nips and kisses of his throat and collarbones. Her fingernails dug into his back, but she distracted him from the slight sting as she caught the crest of his ear between her lips and suckled it. He never wanted the sweet torture to stop, even as he prayed to her, and to God, for release.

I never thought myself the kinda guy
The kinda man that would ever want to settle down
Statistics say it's crazy, passion won't survive
But something says naw, deep down, deep down inside...

“Ororo…ORORO! Oh, God, darlin’, oh, God! Can’t get…enough o’ you! Eeeerrrrgggghh!” He shifted and unwrapped her legs from his waist, and bent them over his shoulders instead, deepening the penetration within her depths. The vibrations of their lovemaking made her breasts knock together enticingly, and Ororo’s eyes rolled shut as she threw her head back, digging her fingers into his thighs. It was too good. He just felt too damned good…pressure throbbed and built up within her womb, and she felt the first stirrings of contractions. She clenched and tightened around him reflexively, heightening the feelings for them both as he stroked her pearl, plucking that final chord…

“Uh-uh, don’t hide from me, look at me, darlin’!” He was so close; Ororo felt the tightening and rigidity of his flesh, becoming even more turgid. Her eyes opened again, pleading with him. “That’s it; I’ve gotta see those beautiful eyes. I want ya ta watch me when ya come.” She nodded, then bit her bottom lip, strangling the soul-deep cry of satisfaction, arching up off the bed as she came. Logan dropped her legs as they spasmed with the initial shocks, and he jerked and cursed as he found his own peak. His arms convulsed around her as he climaxed, unable and unwilling to let go. Her muscles continued to quiver until they finally relaxed beneath him, completely limp. Her breath stirred the hair at his temple as he rested his head within the crook of her neck. Her legs entwined themselves around his as she stroked him, and she could do nothing more than stare up at the ceiling with a ridiculous smile plastered on her face. Logan was still breathing hard; she counted the vertebrae in his spinal cord by feel, growing better acquainted with the cords of muscle in his back.

“You okay?” Her smile widened at his stifled laugh against her skin.

“Mm-hmmm.” He lazily caressed her arm and wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “Better than okay.” He shifted himself slightly lower so that his head was cradled against her chest. He kissed the slope of one breast affectionately. Now that the urgency had passed, he felt comfortable enough just relaxing with her and talking in the dark, listening to the soulful music filling the room and wrapping around them like a blanket.

“You’re one very sexy man, Logan.” That funny little tickle in the back of her skull sent tingles through her body as she contemplated what to say next. Logan, I like you. Logan, I want to see you again. Logan, I’d hate it and wanna hurt somebody if this turns out to be a one-night stand… She supposed that their “lunch” together comprised a date, and even him meeting her at the ball, but it was still so soon…she hated not knowing, and that stupid tongue-tied feeling of wanting to ask but being afraid of the answer.

“Thanks. Feelin’s mutual,” he yawned as he snuggled closer. His lips sleepily roamed her collarbones and steamed her neck. Ororo emitted tiny whimpers as her body began to respond to him again. “Smell good, too.” He nuzzled her jaw with the tip of his nose as he feathered kisses there. His sweat-glazed skin began to cool despite the heat swirling through Ororo’s veins at his renewed ardor, and she invited him between the sheets to get more comfortable. Logan rolled her on top of him so her silky hair brushed his cheeks and chest as she kissed him, and she proceeded to warm him back up.

“Logan?” she inquired, pausing to look up at him through her lashes as she laved his nipple. He bucked beneath the caress.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“You don’t have to get up early tomorrow, do you?”

“Nope.” She anointed the other nipple in the sweetness of her mouth.

“So if I promise not to steal the covers or snore too loud, would you stay the night?”

“Oh, yeah.” Her tongue was playing havoc with every nerve ending of his body, playing hide and seek with his navel beneath the covers. Her muffled voice drifted up to him as she found him again. His breath hissed out between his lips. “JESUS!”

“Then I’m going to tuck you in, now.” He surrendered to her again as she rocked him to sleep.





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