arms prevented her doing much more than rolling the balls of her shoulders, while the leather straps keeping her ankles bound to her thighs kept her in a kneeling position on the red velour couch, the heels of the tightly-laced ballet boots pressed tightly against her bottom. The black ribbons that kept her hair piled up on top of her head, and the one wound decoratively around her throat, formed the rest of her couture for the afternoon.
Marlene enjoyed working with David. If only he wasn't quite so spineless, she might have added him to her catalogue of lovers. She smiled sweetly at him, then spoke into the receiver. "Marlene Lang."
The voice on the other end was a muffled growl, a hiss like steam escaping from some terrible industrial press.
" You were told to return home and wait. "
"But if I'd gone home, darling, you'd have called here and you wouldn't have reached me. So I was just being efficient, really." She smiled sweetly, for the benefit of no-one. David was staring moodily into one corner, as if to give her some measure of privacy, though his arm still held the receiver stiffly in place. There was silence on the other end of the line.
"What's the matter?" She purred the words lazily, like a cat. "Am I being terribly immoral? I suppose I am, really. I shall have to watch that."
The voice on the other end was cold. " Bring the car around to the usual place no later than nine tonight. We have a murder to investigate." The line went dead.
Marlene wondered for a moment if she'd made him jealous. But then, to feel jealousy, one would have to feel, and Marlene was not entirely convinced the Blood-Spider had any feelings beyond that cold, hard anger that informed all his movements. Perhaps that was what made him so fascinating to her - or the deliciousness of the cause, their shared war on crime. She had never imagined that a life of pursuing the common good, without recognition or reward, could be quite so wonderfully decadent.
"There, done. You may put the receiver back, David." She smirked, watching him bristle as he marched stiffly back to replace the apparatus in its cradle, then adopted a contrite look, pouting as he turned his wounded eyes back on her. "Have I been very naughty?"
David shook his head, stuttering a response and blushing. "It's not that, it's... I kind of wish you wouldn't... I mean, I've told you before..." Frustrated, he moved to the equipment he'd laid out on the table, out of the camera's view. "You're not going to be taking any more calls, right? I just need to concentrate for this."
"No more calls, darling. I promise." Marlene smiled, arched her back, and opened her mouth for the ball gag.
There were still little phantom shivers of rubber on the tip of her tongue and a pleasant ache in her shoulders as her hands gripped and spun the steering wheel of the Silver Ghost, tearing it around a corner in a cloud of billowing steam.
She was dressed somewhat more conservatively now, although not by much. The belted leather jacket that formed the top portion of her uniform certainly covered up her torso admirably - although the tight fit drew the eye somewhat - and the peaked cap added an air of authority. The leather miniskirt was slightly more of a problem. It only came down to mid-thigh when she was standing, never mind sitting down, and the high heels on the black pumps she was made to wear did little to distract any passengers from the curves of her legs.
Not that the Silver Ghost carried any passengers apart from the Blood-Spider himself, of course. Perhaps he did have human feelings after all.
Or perhaps he saw her as merely a luxurious component of a luxurious vehicle - for 'luxurious' was really the only way the Silver Ghost could possibly be described. A sleek silver bullet, filigreed with the thin, clustered piping that kept the high-pressure steam turning the wheels and driving the whole apparatus forward, the air-intake surrounding the nosecone looking like the maw of some
Marlene enjoyed working with David. If only he wasn't quite so spineless, she might have added him to her catalogue of lovers. She smiled sweetly at him, then spoke into the receiver. "Marlene Lang."
The voice on the other end was a muffled growl, a hiss like steam escaping from some terrible industrial press.
" You were told to return home and wait. "
"But if I'd gone home, darling, you'd have called here and you wouldn't have reached me. So I was just being efficient, really." She smiled sweetly, for the benefit of no-one. David was staring moodily into one corner, as if to give her some measure of privacy, though his arm still held the receiver stiffly in place. There was silence on the other end of the line.
"What's the matter?" She purred the words lazily, like a cat. "Am I being terribly immoral? I suppose I am, really. I shall have to watch that."
The voice on the other end was cold. " Bring the car around to the usual place no later than nine tonight. We have a murder to investigate." The line went dead.
Marlene wondered for a moment if she'd made him jealous. But then, to feel jealousy, one would have to feel, and Marlene was not entirely convinced the Blood-Spider had any feelings beyond that cold, hard anger that informed all his movements. Perhaps that was what made him so fascinating to her - or the deliciousness of the cause, their shared war on crime. She had never imagined that a life of pursuing the common good, without recognition or reward, could be quite so wonderfully decadent.
"There, done. You may put the receiver back, David." She smirked, watching him bristle as he marched stiffly back to replace the apparatus in its cradle, then adopted a contrite look, pouting as he turned his wounded eyes back on her. "Have I been very naughty?"
David shook his head, stuttering a response and blushing. "It's not that, it's... I kind of wish you wouldn't... I mean, I've told you before..." Frustrated, he moved to the equipment he'd laid out on the table, out of the camera's view. "You're not going to be taking any more calls, right? I just need to concentrate for this."
"No more calls, darling. I promise." Marlene smiled, arched her back, and opened her mouth for the ball gag.
There were still little phantom shivers of rubber on the tip of her tongue and a pleasant ache in her shoulders as her hands gripped and spun the steering wheel of the Silver Ghost, tearing it around a corner in a cloud of billowing steam.
She was dressed somewhat more conservatively now, although not by much. The belted leather jacket that formed the top portion of her uniform certainly covered up her torso admirably - although the tight fit drew the eye somewhat - and the peaked cap added an air of authority. The leather miniskirt was slightly more of a problem. It only came down to mid-thigh when she was standing, never mind sitting down, and the high heels on the black pumps she was made to wear did little to distract any passengers from the curves of her legs.
Not that the Silver Ghost carried any passengers apart from the Blood-Spider himself, of course. Perhaps he did have human feelings after all.
Or perhaps he saw her as merely a luxurious component of a luxurious vehicle - for 'luxurious' was really the only way the Silver Ghost could possibly be described. A sleek silver bullet, filigreed with the thin, clustered piping that kept the high-pressure steam turning the wheels and driving the whole apparatus forward, the air-intake surrounding the nosecone looking like the maw of some
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