be this sunset soon forgotten
your brothers left here shaved and crazy
we've learned to hide our bottles in the well
and what's worth keeping, sun still sinking
down and down
once again
down and down

gone again

-Iron and Wine; Sunset Soon Forgotten


She had made news worldwide on multiple occasions. She had two different sides to her, one was the good, the other the bad. Her chaotic ways had outshone her once beautiful heart and soul. This woman was older than most, but she still maintained to live, even though she was so close to vanishing off the face of the earth. This woman, is named Gotham City.

Millions live inside her city lines, criminals and cops, sinners and saints. The hero of this woman is a man named Batman, the masked vigilante. The press had discussed whether he was a sinner or a saint, one press company said saint, a bright shining light in this hell hole. Others said sinner, promoting anarchy, saying that he was higher than the police was.

A woman looked at the newspaper kiosk, reading of the Batman. They said he was an amazing man, who was a true credit to our community. The woman sighed, shaking her head. This city is going crazy, she thought. Everything was topsy turvy. One day, the Chief of Police says Batman is going down, the next press conference, he admits receiving helped from this "menace of society." The woman set down the paper and continued on her way. This woman, is known as Harley Quinn.

Winter was setting in, which meant darkness would be coming quicker. The last thing she ever wanted was to be alone in Gotham City, at night. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as she turned the corner. Her long blond locks flew behind her like wheat blowing in the wind, her crystal blue eyes sparkled as the sun gently hit them, most would call her a doll, a true gorgeous girl. She clutched her large, black purse with her, which carried every weapon known to man. Switchblades, guns, pepper gel, brass knuckles, you name it, she had it.

A violent wind howled through the air and Harley shuttered, pulling her jacket towards her, and walking faster. The sun was setting quickly; the worst time to be out alone was coming fast. This is why she begged her boss for better hours, she asked over and over again, but he continued to refuse her. Harley gave up eventually, just living with the hours she had. Because, work was work, right? She had a hard time finding this job, the last thing she needed was to get fired.

As she rounded Magnolia and Sixth, Harley's ears met the familiar thump of techno music, and building vibrations. Her workplace stuck out like a sore thumb, unfortunately for her. The building was stark black, contrasting against the brown and red bricked buildings surrounding it. In big, red neon lights, read La Mia Bella. Men were standing behind a red velvet divider, and as she approached, whistles and cat calls clung to the air. Though Harley ignored them, they made her feel even more ashamed than she was already.

She approached the large black man before her. "Hey Rick, how's the wife?"

Rick smiled, revealing his crooked teeth. Rick had been working here as long as Harley had, which is too long. He was a friendly man, with a dainty housewife who made her living as a painter. Harley had met Susan a time or two, she seemed nice enough. "Just fine, Miss Quinn. You have a pleasant night."

"You too, Rick." Harley said over her shoulder. As she walked through the double doors, the familiar scenery overwhelmed her. The club had been designed by some "cool" kid. The furniture was black, the tables the neon red. The bar was see through, so you were able to pick out drinks. In the center was a stage jutting out, in the center of that stage, was a tall golden pole. A girl named Cherry danced to the familiar techno music, she was one of those punk chicks.

Harley walked down the hallway, to the right, lay a familiar red doorway that read, "Dressing Room." Harley opened the door, and was greeted with a plethora of things. Women clucking around like chickens, looking for this or that. Bare, clothed, and barely clothed alike put on make up, did each others hair, nails, you name it. The scene reminded Harley of some type of unusual beauty pageant. As she followed the long mirror, she read the names.

Every time a woman was hired at La Mia Bella, they were given a section of mirror. The woman was required to write her name on her section of mirror, where ever it may be. The tradition though, was that it must be written in lipstick. ''Harley'' was spelled in perfect calligraphy above her section, in bright red. Harley placed her bag on top of the counter, and pulled out the items. A flat iron, a make-up bag, her outfit for the night, etc.

With a flick of the wrist, Harley's eyes became catlike, her lips become red, her hair becomes straight. In a regretful stance, Harley puts on a set of lingerie. Black and red lace scarcely covers her body. Her heels give her four more inches in height, which she doesn't need already, being tall enough.

Harley was never a religious person, in fact if there was a God, she believe he hated her. Or she hated her. Whatever, it didn't matter to her anymore. Harley's hands quickly made a cross over her chest. Her made up eyes fluttered shut, the noise slowed, she wasn't there anymore, but in another place in her mind.

God forgive me.

Harley walked behind the curtain, where Talulah Rigby, also known as Lulu Hepburn, was on stage. Talulah was La Mia Bella's pin-up queen. Harley and Talulah had been the best of friends since she started working in this shit hole. Talulah had been working here for ten long years. Ten years of taking off your clothes for men, ten years of being disgraced. But none of it had seemed to bother her, she almost enjoyed it. Harley didn't know how, every night after work her showers were so hot they burned her skin.

After the closing numbers on the jazz keys, the crowd went wild as Talulah took a bow. The red curtains closed, and Talulah quickly gathered her money and ran to Harley. Talulah was indeed, a queen. Her chocolate curls fell on her hair perfectly, her doe brown eyes always shined with joy. She may be tiny, but Talulah had the most fire Harley had every seen in a woman. The girls embraced, Talulah fanned her money.

"Got a little over two hundred! I'll tell you honey, I am on fire tonight!" Talulah's charming laughed bounced off the walls and into Harley's ears. The blond smiled at her friend, fidgeting with her hair and her top, if you could consider it a top, more like a scrap of lace…

Talulah rolled her eyes. "Honey, don't be so nervous. You do amazing every time. Just…Just don't think about it, okay? They're not even there."

Harley nodded, little tears threatening to spill over her eyes. Harley usually was able to keep it together, but every blue moon, that shame and guilt would erupt, and all Harley could do is cry for hours. Talulah gave her a tight hug, and as the DJ called Harley's name, she quickly composed herself, giving a small smile to Talulah.

"Make me proud honey! Get me my mon-ey!" With the last syllables, Talulah wiggled her hips. Harley laughed aloud as she walked over to the pole. The velvet curtain blocked her view for only a moment. Harley's heels clicked together, just like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. There's no place like home, she thought. Her mind repeated that phrase over and over until the curtains raised and the blinding lights filled her blue eyes. The crowd gave a light applause as the hip hop beat filled her ears, and the rapper's lyrics filled Harley's ears.

You ready?! Let's go!
Yeah, for those of you that want to know what we're all about
It's like this y'all (c'mon!)

This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!

Harley's body was lost in the beat, her mind far in the music. This song reminded her of a girl she once knew. A girl who was going to change the world through song, who would sing of the world with heavy electric guitar beats and lyrics that would blow anyone's mind. This girl was Harley. As her body danced, her mind was far gone. She went into her head, she remembered the time she was running through the woods, playing tag with her best friend. The woods were about a mile from their homes, but they didn't care, if they could get away from their parents, the better it was. Her dad was a rolling stone, her mom had a habit. His daddy was a drinker, his momma didn't care about him. They had been neighbors and friends for seventeen years.

As the final beats stopped, the crowd went wild, throwing money on the stage eagerly. The curtain dropped, and Harley's eyes leaked over with tears. She collected her clothes and money quickly, running back to the dressing room and into the bathroom. She sobbed, curling into a ball, letting her shame consume her frame. Someone opened the door, a petite girl in a pin-up Navy costume. Talulah ran over to Harley and hugged her, allowing the young girl to ruin her outfit.

Across the club, were two men in a private booth. The first man's hair was parted to the side, completely gray. His thick Italian accent was charming, his suit in neat proportion, he looked like a well cut man with a good job. Not the type who would go to a strip club, from the first look. But when one began to speak to this man, they realized he was a sleaze ball. This man, is Salazar Maroni.

The man across of him is the exact opposite. His hair is green and stringy, not groomed at all. His suit is a tacky purple and green pattern; his shoes have been through hell and back. His face is caked with war paint, as his hired goons had called it. He sat there, listening to Maroni go on and on about finances, deals, and possible outcomes of this ''peace treaty'' he wanted him to sign. The Joker sighed, taking a sip of his rum and Coke. The Joker's eyes began to wonder out of sheer boredom, this guy and his figures were just too dull.

The girl on stage was some brunette. She was short and wore a Navy costume. He saw where she had forgotten to apply tanning lotion, and the scar on her left knee. Her face was too round, her lips too thin. He watched her as she shook like a belly dancer to some oldies song. She was a good dancer, he had to give her that, though he really wasn't into brown hair… As she finished, the crowd went wild and the DJ gave an applause to, "the fabulous Lulu Hepburn."

The Joker looked around the club. In general it was just a slum hole where men fell into hypnosis by women with no shirts on. He smirked, rolling his eyes at the pathetic excuses for men. Where did there balls go? He had to give them some slack though, The Joker himself had been a player in his early days, but a lot can happen in a span of five years…

The DJ announced some other broad on stage, but he didn't pay attention, he just stretched and yawned, waiting for Maroni to realize that he wasn't listening to a single word that came out of his damn mouth. A familiar hip hop beat blasted through the speakers, the vibrations shook the room. This girl had a good taste in music. Slowly, his eyes drifted to the stage, and he couldn't believe what he saw.

Dirty blond hair fell on her shoulders, the blue from her eyes could be seen across the room. Her chest was full, her stomach was tight, her legs continued to go on and on…Jesus, did they go on forever? Her full red lips were in a natural pout, her arms were wrapped around the gold pole, and one long leg hooked its way onto it. She moved gracefully, beautifully. My God she was amazing. He couldn't help but his mouth to go slack, hell, he didn't know it was slack. He was hypnotized like all the poor men in the room.

Maroni realized The Joker wasn't listening to anything he was saying, but looking on stage. Maroni's piercing blue eyes drifted to the stage and smirked. All night, not one woman had caught this freak's fancy, and now he was hooked. As the girl's act ended, and the curtain closed, The Joker's daze went away, and he turned back to Maroni. He indicated to the stage.

"You like her?"

The Joker gave a shrug of his shoulders and leaned back on his chair, his eyes still gazing on the empty stage.

"Her name's Harley Quinn. She's one of the more…interesting girls at the club. She does…private meetings if you're interested." Maroni said in a non cliché tone.

The Joker thought about this. Sex was the weakest thing a man could do, it showed lack of power, and human qualities. He never put his dick in his business, but damn, this girl was fucking gorgeous. His fingers drummed on the table before him, his mind caught in his thoughts. When was the last time he got laid? Three years ago, with some mob whore. She was disgusting really, with a fake tan and tits, but hell, pussy is pussy. "Harley Quinn, quite the…unique name." He mumbled quietly.

"She's a pretty unique girl." Maroni said with a charming grin. "Would you like to meet her?"

The Joker shrugged once again, but Maroni saw the look in his eyes. Maroni pulled out his phone and sent a text message to the bartender. He smirked, looking at the crazed man before him. "She'll be here with a round of whiskey in a moment."

Harley slowly applied the last of her eyeliner, her smeared make up washed away and forgotten. Talulah sat on the toilet, smiling sweetly. As Harley put on her red lipstick, Talulah placed a gentle hand on hers. "There we go, all better. You sure you still want to be here, Harley? You can take off tonight, I owe you a shift anyway-"

Harley shook her head. "No, no. I need the money, my rent's gone up again. I swear to God, I'm going to kill that bastard." Harley growled, throwing her lipstick in her bag. Her landlord had raised her rent an extra one hundred dollars, every penny counted these days. Not to mention Harley's depression pills didn't come cheap, they were highly expensive, but worked with little side effects. Talulah gave a laugh, it sounded like wind chimes.

"I know how you feel honey, we'll kill him together, then we can murder my landlord."

"The perfect crime." Harley responded with an evil glint in her eyes.

The girls laughed in unison and exited the bathroom and into the club, linked arm and arm. Talulah dragged her over to the bar, considering she needed a shot. Talulah had a bit of an alcohol problem, well, a lot of an alcohol problem. Harley always tried to stop her, but she always refused. Talulah had a rough life, one Harley was surprised anyone could live and be as happy as her. Harley sighed as Talulah allowed a small glass of clear liquid to slide down her throat.

"Harley! Get your ass over here and get these to table ten!" Brandon shouted. Brandon was a punk hipster who unfortunately, Harley had the pleasure of knowing. His jeans were to tight, his shirts to colorful, and hair to outrageous. Harley sighed, taking two glasses of what looked like whiskey and gave a smile to Talulah, who raised her second glass of vodka at her. Harley sighed, shaking her head. She had encouraged her a thousand times to get help, but she never stopped.

Table ten was a private booth, and Harley began to wonder who exactly was at the table. Mostly celebrities and the boss with his clients or guests. The boss always ''entertained'' his guests, with a girl of their choice. Harley had been this girl a time or two, but not all the time. The worst part of taking off your clothes for money, was eventually having sex for money. Every time, Harley felt like she was going to vomit the entire time a man used her body. It made her sick just thinking about it, after it happened, Harley would cry and take a shower that would cause the normal person to cry out in pain. But for Harley, they didn't make water hot enough.

As Harley approached Maroni, he smiled at her. "Ah, Harley. Just the girl I wanted to see." Even though Maroni was a scum bag, he was a scum bag that provided her with work, so she sucked it up and smiled, placing the whiskey on the table. She took a seat on the edge, allowing herself to be in full view. She saw the form of another man on the right of her, the shadows and lights only allowed her to see the outline of him. But she could see his gloves, bright purple. Her face showed curiosity, who wore purple gloves?

But she turned her curiosity into seductiveness. "Boys, how are you doing tonight?"

Maroni smiled. "Just fine. Harley, this is my associate, The Joker."

Harley offered her hand. "Charmed, Mr. Joker. Might I say, what a curious name you have." His gloved hand held hers, and brought it back to the shadows. She felt lips connect with the top of it, but not only lips, something on the side of his face. It felt like severe scar tissue. She eliminated the thought, nothing that grisly could be on a man's face. She pulled back her hand, but the puzzle had more pieces. A red lip print was on her hand, with white smudged on the outside.

"I've been told I'm a…curious person, Miss Quinn." Harley's hair stood on the back of her neck, goose bumps shot along her arms. His voice was so strange. It was high pitched, whiney. It reminded her of the nerds who sat in the front of the class. But at the same time it was masculine and confident. The lights shifted, and Harley got a look at his face. She suppressed the look of surprise on her face. Ghastly white paint covered his entire face, charcoal was smeared under his eyes, with bright red smearing his face. But that wasn't the worst of it. Two scars marred his face in the shape of a forever smile, a Glasgow grin Harley remembered.

"I'm going to let you two get to know each other better. Have a good night." And with that, Maroni slipped out of the booth and walked away. Harley turned her body around, maneuvering herself to the strange man before her. Harley had never met such a character before in her life. It was so fascinating, but something lay underneath the paint and voice, a dangerous air surrounded this man. Though she was frightened, Harley knew what she had to do to survive. Harley leaned up against The Joker, her hands trailing down his arm.

"So Mr. Joker, what do you feel like doing tonight?" Harley murmured lowly.

The Joker gave a small growl. "What do you think?"

Harley grinned, her fingers beginning to wonder across his chest. The Joker's breathing began to increase slightly. "I think I have an idea. So, we might as well get business out of the way, hm?" The Joker's eyes closed slightly and he nodded. Harley smiled.

The Joker sighed, gazing at the girl. She looked about twenty six or twenty seven at the most. Her bare leg brushed against his clothed one, she started getting closer. "How much?" He whispered.

"Seven hundred." Harley said simply. The Joker smirked and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a wad of one hundred dollar bills. Harley's eyes went wider than saucers. How much money does this guy carry on him? Harley reached over and gingerly took the money, counting it. One thousand dollars. Against her better judgment, she gave back three bills. The Joker pushed them in his pocket.

"There's a private room in the back…" Harley trailed off. Her hands began to wander more. She could feel the hard muscles in his arms and chest. She was happy to have a guy with muscle, it was better than some guy with a beer belly. Her leg found its way across his lap, she moved until she was straddling him. The Joker's heart fluttered, he hadn't been touched like this in a good while. His hands rested themselves on her hips, he remembered she suggested something.

"No, I have a car." He whispered huskily. Harley smirked, climbing off his lap to The Joker's displeasure. She wrapped her hand around his large one, threading her nimble fingers through his. Her heels clicked as she led him to the parking lot. The Joker trailed in the back, enjoying the view of her. She was almost as tall as him in those heels, but they made her legs look fucking amazing. He eyeballed her entire frame as they pair walked out into the cold night of the parking lot, Harley looked at him for guidance. The Joker led them over to a black car of some sort, it almost looked like a Volvo. He pulled a pair of keys from his pocket and unlocked the sleek car. Like a crazed gentleman, he opened the back door of the car, and Harley climbed in, turning on her back.

Harley spread her legs, and The Joker eagerly climbed in, shutting the door behind him. The freezing cold car caused Harley to shake, considering she was in nothing but a pair of lacy underwear. Teeth chattering and muscle trembling wasn't the best way to put the customer in the mood. The Joker laid on top of her, his weight pushing her in the seat, she gasped, remembering what it was like to have a man on top of her. His body heat began to warm her, that and the butterflies flapping all in her stomach, and the warmth starting in her belly. Harley arched her neck and spread her limbs slightly, waiting for him to attack some part first.

He ripped off his gloves with his teeth, and awkwardly removed his jacket, almost elbowing Harley in the process. He wondered if the car was the best idea… No matter, they were already here. The Joker's hand made its way into Harley's blond locks, curling slightly. His breathing became heavy as he leaned down and connected their lips. Harley's eyes almost popped out of her skull. Most men just go for the fucking and leave, no customer had ever kissed her. She relaxed, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Harley felt something warm and wet slide across her cherry lips, and she eagerly parted them.

The Joker's mind was racing with all thoughts about her. The beginnings of an erection began to form in his pants, his other hand made its way behind her back, she arched slightly, allowing him to unhook her bra. The Joker ripped the flimsy material somewhere in the car. He had seen her naked on the stage, but nothing compared to this. Her breasts were full and round, with hard pink tips. He unconsciously licked his lips and bent his head down, licking it. Harley shut her eyes and turned her head, breathing hard. Her mind began to wander like it always did when she had to be with a man. She thought about the time she went to the beach. The endless blue ocean rocking gently, the hot sand melting between her toes, the seaweed that stuck to her leg. She remembered the sun warming on her back, the joy that she felt right then and there. Her memories trailed to the boy next door-

The Joker noticed she wasn't paying attention and he growled in aggravation. He was paying her, she should at least pretend to be interested. He grabbed her face roughly, forcing her to look at him. Harley grunted, staring into his eyes. "You know, beautiful, I can take my business elsewhere." He said threateningly. In a fear of losing the money, Harley attacked his lips and moaned, pushing her body towards him. The Joker growled, pushing towards Harley.

His hands trailed over her breasts and towards her stomach. Harley's stomach trembled, a breathy moan escaping her full lips. When he came to her underwear, he didn't know how to get it off her. His fingers curled in the skimpy material and tugged. Harley heard-and felt-the material of her panties rip. She wanted to chew him out for the little stunt, but my God what a rush. She squirmed, gasping as the cold air hit her body.

The Joker's cock jerked, he couldn't take it anymore. If she was going to lay there, writhing and moaning, she was going to get what she wanted… The Joker's hands flew at his pants, quickly undoing his belt, and unzipping his pants. He tried to take his pants off, but gave up and just pushed them down, along with his boxers. Harley eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist and bucked, giving him a sexy smirk.

The Joker felt her wet entrance and groaned his head bowing. Steadying his arms above her head, he began to gently push himself inside her. Harley gasped, her back arching and her nails digging into her palms. The Joker growled, pushing himself inside her at a steady pace. Harley moaned as the heat began to consume every inch of her flesh. Her half lidded eyes stared at The Joker's, whimpering as he pushed himself to the hilt. The Joker could have exploded right then and there, she felt so…so perfect. He moaned slightly as he picked himself up on his arms and gave a test thrust, causing Harley to moan.

Harley quickly untied the tie that pushed against his neck. She began to unbutton his shirt, taking it off him. Her nails raked against his solid chest, and The Joker's eyes fluttered shut. Crime kept you fit, thank God. Harley pushed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, nodding slightly. The Joker began to thrust evenly at first, but then gradually picking up a speed. With every rock of his hips, Harley's breathing increased, The Joker let out a small groan.

His breath fogged the freezing glass, Harley's hands slapped against the window in pleasure, her entire body arching. Each thrust was adding to the fire inside her, everything was surreal. Her breathing became moans as he increased his speed.

"Oh God." Harley moaned.

The Joker gave a throaty chuckle. "Not God, Harley."

Harley nodded, giving a small gasp as his hips angled. "Oh, Joker."

The Joker growled in pleasure, hearing his names fall from those gorgeous lips was a dream come true. Harley bit her lips as her nails began to dig into his back, her heel dug into his hips. His face faltered and he groaned, pounding his hips faster. Harley screamed, the pleasure coming faster than she expected. Her body was on fire, despite the freezing cold. She could feel the car rocking with every thrust of his hips.

Her moans were becoming more high pitched, it didn't take an idiot to figure out what was going to happen… Harley's body began to clench, slowly at first, but the spasms inside her became more frequent. Each one squeezed his cock tightly, and he couldn't help but let out a groan. He hated feeling weak, but god damn was this good.

"Ugh, fuck Mr. J." Harley murmured.

The name went right to The Joker's cock. Heat flushed through his frame and he gasped, nothing like that had ever given him such a rush. Harley's pussy began to clench him tightly, her face relaxed in an 'O' shape as a loud moan rang through her. The Joker pounded as fast as he could, his body trying to find release. As his hips began to falter and his cock began to spasm, the numbing euphoria washed over him with bright lights.

The two lay in his car, totally spent from their encounter. Harley was covered in sweat, hers and his alike. The Joker ran his hand through his messy hair, damn, that was good. No woman had brought him to an orgasm that quickly. Well, everyone but one… But there was no use thinking about her. The Joker pulled himself out of Harley, groaning at the loss. The two dressed quickly and awkwardly, asking for an article of clothing or two. Harley realized she didn't have any underwear.

"Mr. Joker?"


"You…you ripped my underwear off me." Harley murmured in embarrassment. The Joker reached over to his boxers and handed them to her. She slipped them on, rolling them to fit her tiny waist. Harley opened the car door, the night air bringing an icy chill to her body. She was about to get out when his hand grabbed her arm. She looked into his deep, piercing eyes.

"We should do this again sometime, Harley Quinn." The Joker pulled out a card, handing it to her. Harley took the card from him daintily, and shut the car door, the sound echoing through the empty parking lot. Harley ran as fast as a woman could in high heels to the warmth of the club. As she entered, Harley took a look at the card, and the extra bills attached to it. On the card was a joker, laughing at her. There was no number on the card.