The Day After
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Diana's eyes opened slowly as the first ray of morning light beamed through a gap in the curtains. She felt warm all over, her body tingling from a beautiful evening of passionate love making.
She sat bolt upright, clutching the sheets to her naked body. Bruce. Sex. Good sex! Memories flooded back from the night before: the museum benefit, Bruce's generous donation, a bottle of champagne, his hand on her lower back, another bottle, laughing, a limo ride, another bottle, his hand on her thigh, and then it went hazy. Diana didn't normally drink, despite her divine strength and power she was a lightweight when it came to libations but after last night she might never touch the grape again. It was all a blur, a wonderful blur of skin touching skin between expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. A blush spread across her skin and Diana suddenly wanted to hide deep inside the darkest hole she could find. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, had spent an evening touching her in ways no other man ever had. Her teammate, her friend, a man who stood beside her through thick and thin, was also the best sex she'd ever had.
She held her breath when she felt the bed shift beside her. Bruce was still there, sleeping the sleep of the sated lover. Diana threw a hand over her eyes to keep from staring at his vast expanse of bronze skin. She suddenly felt as shy as a teenage girl, afraid but also excited. Just looking at Bruce created a storm within her, a swirling tempest that made gooseflesh appear across her skin.
He stirred again and Diana jumped out of the bed with fright. Why was she still here? Why wasn't she looking for her clothing, rushing down the back stairs? Did she want more from him that this? Was this the start of something?
She felt her common sense banging a drum over and over in her mind. No, no, NO! You can't, not with him. Bruce was supposed to be a friend, someone you care about like a brother. Besides, he clearly wasn't 'boyfriend' material. Diana gotten to know Bruce very well over the years and could never picture him doing anything but running from rooftop to rooftop with his sights set on some foul villain. He wouldn't retire, wouldn't share his pain or his feelings. Bruce Wayne was incapable of sharing his life with anyone.
But Diana was still here. Still standing naked his bed room with no regard for how awkward this would be if he ever woke up and realized exactly what road the champagne had pushed them down. She felt her head turn against her will and she started staring at his body again.
When she was much younger, Diana's mother told her a story about one of the few men to ever reach the shores of Themyscira: Adonis, Aphrodite's lover. To hide her beautiful man from the world, the Goddess of Love asked Poseidon to maroon Adonis on Themyscira so he would be safe from Ares' violent temper or Hephaestus' jealous rages. Aphrodite assumed that the Amazons would not be interested in Adonis' perfect beauty but instead the love struck women of the island drove themselves crazy trying to bed the Greek youth. In the end Amazon society nearly collapsed into civil war before Aphrodite whisked Adonis away on the wings of a swan. The story had many different versions but Diana's mother made the moral very clear: all men are dangerous.
But she never quite understood that story until this very moment. This single mere mortal, not a god or an alien in a cape, had managed to disarm her so completely that she was at his mercy. She couldn't move or speak or make a decision. Her thoughts were simply filled with him. His body, his touch. Diana briefly entertained a darkly humorous thought about what would happen if she brought Bruce back to the island. Would the sight of him cause another civil war?
The sun had risen a little higher and there was more light in the room then before, Diana could see the rippling muscles on his back stretch beneath his taunt skin. She heard a breathy moan escape Bruce's lips and a single word reached her superhuman ears: "Diana." He was dreaming about her.
That spurred Diana into action. This had already gone too far. She needed to put an end to it before she made it worse. She pulled the white gown on top of her body, and then began fastening her sandals onto her feet. She was preparing to leave until she realized that the blue sash she wore the night before was nowhere to be found. She scanned the room, but her eyes stopped at the headboard. It was wrapped around Bruce's right arm, immobilizing him even in his sleep. She suddenly wondered how she'd managed to talk him into doing something like that.
Diana had to sit on the bed and lean over Bruce's naked form in order to remove her sash. A scene flashed in her mind, Diana had tied him to the bed and straddled his hips with her thighs. She remembered him groaning and moaning every time they increased the pace of their thrusting motions. She remembered loud cries of passion just before they both exploded from the wonderful pressure.
Her body would let her go but her mind had to leave; she had to get away from this terrible mistake. Diana was rushing to untie the heavy knot without waking him. She was nearly out the door when the urge to take one final look at Bruce overwhelmed her common sense. She wondered, briefly, if it would hurt him if she left without saying goodbye. A great feeling of guilt washed over her and she couldn't bring herself to just go without leaving something, a note, a farewell, something.
Diana untied the blue sash from her waist and then rubbed it against her face to make sure it smelled of her perfume. She threw it across the bed, letting the wispy silk fall lightly on his chest. Her mouth touched his cheek in a final chaste kiss.
Alfred Pennyworth was a man of strict ritual and rigid tradition. Every morning at precisely five o'clock he arose and took a half hour jog around the grounds of Wayne Manor. Then he showered, dressed, and prepared for a day of tending to the business of running a multimillion dollar household.
He was normally alone at this time of day. Master Bruce rarely rose before noon and since Master Tim has always maintained his own residence, there was no longer any need to set out school clothes and cook a hearty breakfast as had been the thing to do for Master Bruce's previous young charges. So now all that was left to do was to pick up the morning paper and take in a light meal before beginning his morning rounds around the house.
He was shocked when he saw Princess Diana descending the stairway wearing the same outfit he had seen her wearing the night before carrying her shoes and her hair frizzy and unkempt as if she had just woken up. When she saw him the tall demi goddess stopped dead in her tracks.
Normally Alfred had some sort of biting comment on the tip of his tongue for occasions just such as this one but those barbed jokes were reserved for the many models and glamorous actresses that hopped in and out of Master Bruce's bed for the sake of maintaining an alibi.
But this was a very different kind of woman…this was…
"He isn't awake yet, Mr. Pennyworth." Wonder Woman did her best to maintain her royal authority but didn't need to. A life of growing up alongside British Aristocracy meant Alfred knew exactly how to treat royalty, even divine royalty, regardless of the situation.
Pennyworth recovered from the initial shock and straightened his back with practiced calm, "I am aware of that, your highness, I was merely attending to my personal business upstairs."
Diana nodded and mouthed a limp 'of course'.
She continued her descent past him and navigated on wobbly knees to the front door until Alfred's cultured voice stopped her, "I might recommend using the rear door, your highness. Agents of certain tabloids have been known to frequent our front lawn. I cannot guarantee your visit will be discreet if you use that exit."
"Thank you, Alfred."
"My pleasure, your highness."
Soon Diana was gone, leaving Alfred alone with the shock of seeing the world's most desirable woman walking through the halls of Wayne Manor with a grin of physical satisfaction on her face.
"Bugger me," Alfred muttered, "What has he done now?"