The Lost Evening

Alfred rang the doorbell at the by-now familiar apartment. He cleared his throat with nervousness and rang it again. Soon he heard the patter of catlike feet from the other side and the door opened.

"Yes?" Selina Kyle began, then recognized her visitor. "Why Alfred! To what do I owe this honor?"

Alfred fiddled with his bowler hat, held between his hands. My goodness, this was embarrassing. "Erm, Miss Kyle, it has come to my attention that a particular piece of ladies' lingere, which I had returned to you, might not belong to you after all. I would like to some basic facts about the evening in question that..."

"One of the boys blabbed, huh?" she said.

"Well, yes. It is uncharacteristic of Master Dick to be closemouthed about certain things and, er.."

"You saw the black eye and got the whole story out of him, huh?" she said with a twinkle.

"Leading me to believe that certain...certain...activities between you and I did not in fact occur..."

With a beaming smile, Selina decided to put Alfred out of his misery. "That's right, Alfred. Nothing happened that night between you and I. The panties aren't mine. It was just my little joke to let you think that something had happened." She gave him a soft look. "Not that I would have minded if it had."

Alfred felt himself blush as he hadn't in years. "Thank you, Miss Kyle for setting that straight."

"Oh, Alfred, " Selina purred. "You might want to ask Bruce whose panties those are."

"Indeed, Miss Kyle?" Alfred's eyebrows met in the center. "I will. Indeed, I will."