Congratulations on Convincing Your Wife that it's Cool for You to Wear a Mask During Sex!

“Ooooh,” she’ll moan as you grind against her, twisting the angle of your hips so that you roll inside of her just so, sending her back spasming delicately into ecstasy.  You’ll grab hold of her shoulders and hold her in place as if she’s getting away.  You’ll drop your voice an octave and growl into her ear:

“Swear to meeeeee…”

She’ll suddenly grow almost silent, heart trembling beneath you, furtive pulse racing through her skin, her sex.  Her eyes will be blown wide and fixed upon you.  She’ll sit that way, breathless for minutes upon minutes before, with a peep, she shudders, claws at you, shredding your back, your shoulders, your chest.  A flurry of nails, teeth, fists, legs.  Mutual bruising, minor contusions, sheets desperately need changing, the scent of her already settling into the mattress.

You’ll do your part, holding her close, keeping her in place upon your thighs, looking deep into her eyes each time they flutter open to catch sight of you.  When she’s finished, when she’s still, you’ll lower her to the bed, considering what to do next.

“Oh Bruce,” she’ll murmur at you.  You’ll pause for a moment, nearly breaking character, half asking yourself well hey now who’s this Bruce fellow, but then you’ll remember.  You’ll remember, stick with your character and respond:

“Who told you?”

She’ll squirm with excitement, falling upon you, doing all she can to buy time to think of an explanation.

Congratulations on Convincing Your Wife that it’s Cool for You to Wear a Mask During Sex!

Congratulations Man Who Talks About Batman Too Much!

“Fuckin’ Detective Comics,” you’ll tell her from an empty stool away.  “That’s my joint.”

She’ll put down her comic and smile up at you.

“Oh yeah?” she’ll murmur.  “Who’s your favorite Robin?”

You’ll shrug.

“Anyone but Nighthawk.”  She’ll chitter a laugh at you and then give you a seriously look.”I sort of like Stephanie Brown for what she did with comic tropes, but really I’d say Tim Drake for what he let them do with the character.”

“Couldn’t last,” she’ll murmur at you.

“The best things usually can’t.”

That’ll make her crack a smile.

Later, at her apartment you’ll be fascinated by the shelves and shelves of anthologies and books just laying around like they’ve been read yesterday.

When you start kissing her on the ears and neck you’ll whisper “You’re no collector.”

“I guess not,” will be her response.

It’ll be perfect.

Congratulations Man Who Talks About Batman Too Much!

Congratulations Batman Memorabilia Collector!

You have the somewhat dubious honor of being the greatest Batman comic and memorabilia collector in the United States, which is a lot less glamorous than it sounds. And your ceaseless pursuit of Batman shit has prevented you from ever knowing true love, which kinda sucks. So while you have a room sized humidor filled with priceless merchandise, your life feels empty in a way you can’t quite articulate (because almost all of your practice articulating things has been dedicated to articulating things about Batman).

But lucky you, there’s a super-secret conference of eccentric millionaires with collections of useless shit, and a week ago, you were invited to it. You decided you’d go for it and used some of your trust fund to purchase a plane ticket and accommodation in a modest hotel and today you’re going to arrive just in time for the festivities.

It won’t be terribly clandestine or secret in nature. You and your cohorts will meet in a hotel conference room, you’ll exchange pictures of your collections and you’ll discuss how you came into the practice of acquiring massive amounts of shit one by one. Most of the stories will be pretty boring, and relate to absent father figures, but one guy, an older gentleman in a suit with a British accent and the largest collection of Batman memorabilia in the world (!!!) will actually be pretty interesting.

During one of the strange coffee breaks that will populate the meeting, making it feel a bit like an AA meeting, you’ll strike up a conversation with him and really hit it off. You’ll both be really comfortable talking about Batman, and that’ll be nice since most people, even people at this event, won’t really like discussing Batman as much as you do. You won’t think anything peculiar is afoot when the old Brit asks you to come by his room to discuss Batman over some brandy. You’ll just show up.

And you won’t think it odd when the two of you sit very, very close together. And when he rests his hand on your thigh and it feels right, you won’t think it odd at all. When he rams his tongue in your mouth, you’ll think it feels right, even though he’ll be old and his tongue will be kind of tough, leathery, slippery and wily, as if from a lifetime of smoking.

When you wake up in his arms the next day, you’ll feel complete, newborn, clean, despite the sensation of wetness surrounding your rectum. You’ll kiss him on the forehead and roll over, wondering what the next day will bring, what strange twists brought you here, whether or not what you’re doing counts as fulfilling the Batman-Alfred slash-fic you wrote when you were in high school.

You won’t worry overmuch about the answers at the time.

Congratulations Batman Memorabilia Collector!