Date Night.

Taking your second offering of the delicious shrimp toast bruschetta hors d'oeuvre from the roaming waiter you lean against a marble column and watch with amused wonder your wife work.

Your at the mansion of one Archibald A. R. Cotton, in the rich outskirts of Metropolis. Cotton, an investment banker and the third wealthiest man in the city, is a gregarious old windbag that acts like he is out of a 1950's John Ford film. He has graciously allowed his primary estate to be used for a fancy dinner party to raise money for the oncology wing for the new Lex Luthor Children's Hospital. You hate these donor fundraisers, and loath asking people for money, but they're a necessary evil. Tonight, however, you have brought your secret weapon, who is owning the main hall like a boss.

Looking particularly stunning in a hunter green scarf and belt with midnight purple heels and matching dress that shows the right amount cleavage and leg to be tantalizing, but still appropriate, respectable and above all classy, Selina moves from one fat-cat to the next with grace and skill. With a warm generous smile she listens to all the conversations, jokes and stories with profound interest, charmingly laughing at the right moments, with the occasional playful brush against the elbow or even the coy little wink when no one is watching. Thus she reeks havoc on the bank accounts of some of the wealthiest men in the city, all who are more then willing to cut ever increasing checks to impress the raven haired beauty.

Though you realize it's selfish pride, it feels wonderful to know that the hottest woman in the room, who is the center of everyone's attention, is going home with you. The pride you feel, however, is not all selfish. You're proud that Selina is your wife, and you're proud for her. Leslie was right, for all her bad-girl bluster, she does have a heart of gold. You begin to ponder what special thing you can do for her, as you realize that it has been awhile since you took her out on a well planned date.

As the party begins to wind down Selina is able to break away and meet you in a small side hallway near the bar. As your wife approaches she puts her hand to her head like it's a gun. Making a comical grotesque face she drops her trigger like thumb and then yanks her head violently to the side, pretending to blow her brains out.

“I know.” You try to give her an encouraging smile. “They do have your favorite, Nikka Coffey Malt.” And you hand her a glass of two fingers of premium Japanese whiskey.

Knocking back the **** like a pro Selina looks down at your drink. “Tough night for you too I see; Had to put the cran-raspberry in with the ginger ale?”

“No, straight cranberry.” You take a sip of your drink. “I had to dance with three octogenarian widows.”

“Damn doc, keep drinking like that I'll have to call the suicide watch hotline.”

“Language.” You point out then sigh. “But I'll let the Swear Jar slide this time. It has been one darn long night.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.” Your wife smiles and leans her shoulder into yours. “You know, we haven't been on a proper date in a long time.”

“I know, and I feel bad about that. Once we get through night I promise to take you dancing.” Your guilty forces you to offer **** penance, “I might even try to survive that Mooncore Hand Bell Ring music you like.

“It's Moombahcore and Hard NRG.”

“Whatever.”

“Come on doc.” Selina gets that dangerous impish look. “We could go on a date tonight!”

“When we get home, I'll get my earplugs and we can go.” You hope this will assuage your wife.

“No,” she pouts, “The fundraiser is done and I want to play now! I heard that old man Cotton has a observatory up on the fourth floor, we could break in, mess with the telescope and make out.”

It's getting dangerous, you realize, when going to a club is not enough to entertain your adrenaline junkie wife. When Selina gets in one of these moods, it's next to impossible to talk her out of it. Usually coupled with the mood is a weird fetish to get you to swear, break some law and/or have sex in a public place. At best you can try to redirect her boredom, which always ends in ravaging sex. That part you certainly don't mind – its the journey to the conclusion that scares you.

“You're thinking too much again.” She complains as she turns and presses her chest against your arm. “I'm helping with your work tonight.” With a single finger she begins to play with your hair. “Why can't you come with me and see what I do, just for once.”

“Because yours involves criminal infractions, misdemeanors and usually felonies. Besides, you gave up your night job, remember?”

“But its been such a boring night.” Her voice is pleading but very sexual. “I want to have fun and I want my man with me.”

“Selina, let's just finish our work here and then we can talk in the car, okay?" You know this line isn't going to work.

“I want do something exciting.” She flatly declares.

You now regret giving her whiskey, for when she utters the most dangerous word in her vocabulary, "exciting," you know all to well what the former Catwoman means, and it usually ends with a FBI investigation.

“Selina, look . . .” You try to answer forcefully, but your voice breaks a bit as you feel Selina's hand run across your chest.

“It's a long weekend this weekend.” She purrs. “If we can play tonight, I'll be your **** for that 72 hours. Whatever you command, I will do.” Her hand runs from your chest down across your upper abdomen.

“Umm.” You waver as several very indecent images run through your mind before you're able to refocus and parry. “Does that include getting up early on Saturday morning and going with me on one of my nature day hikes?”

Selina's hand stops. “You're one sick bastard.” She whispers coldly into your ear, “but yes, even that.”

“That one does count for the Swear Jar.” You comment trying to buy some time as your thoughts war with themselves as her hand begins to roam across your lower abdomen.

Thankfully, fate intervenes as you have to step away from your aroused wife as one of the butlers enters the hallway you're in.

“Dr. and Mrs. Anderson,” He announces completely stone faced and professional, “Master Cotton is about to conclude this nights festivities, he is asking all his guests to gather in the great hall.”

“Yes of course.” You nod. “Thank you. Very well timed. We will come immediately.”

As you follow the butler Selina gives you a quick slap on your ass. “You won't escape next time.” She playfully threatens.

Entering into the main hall you let Selina work her way to the front where she can have the most effect while you hang back on the outer rim of the crowd trying to ignore the silver-haired grandmother waving at you. The room is a buzz about something in the news, with a low whispering spreading across the crowd.

Soon, old-man Cotton raises his hands silencing the crowd. By the redness of his face, he has been clearly drinking far too much. With a big voice he quiets the room and announces, “Ladies and Gentleman the news report that there has been a blackout in Metropolis are true.” The room breaks out into a collective gasp. “But. But!” Cotton continues, it is only for a few blocks surrounding the Daily Planet. The authorities have asked, however, that everyone stay inside for the next hour or so.” A murmur runs through the room. “There is nothing to fear!” Cotton picks up a glass of gin. “We citizens of our fair Metropolis are not like those hooligans from Gotham.”

“Oh no, please don't go there.” Your eyes close as you mutter to yourself.

His starts to ape a bad churchillian accent. “We all remember the disaster of the Gotham riots a few years ago. I am confident such things will not happen in this city. We are not degenerates who were sired on the streets of that dark cesspool, but descent people who will prove our civility and dignity befitting the metal of New Troy!"

“No . . . no . . . no.” You almost chant to yourself, afraid to look up.

“And in the unlikely event some ruffians should emerge, I can personally assure you that in my house you're most safe.” The patriarch proclaims . “My security is the best money can buy and is crime proof. No thug or burglar could ever enter, let alone steal, from any of my estates!”

The crowd, whether out of politeness or agreement, begins to applaud. You can only drop your head into your hand and squeeze your eyes terrified of the whirlwind of chaos that will soon engulf you.

“Oh, please be quiet.” You give a **** prayer as Cotton continues, encouraged by the applause.

“You're my witness.” He boldly proclaims, “I wager one million, no ten million dollars, to be given to the new Children's Hospital, if anyone could rob one of my houses!”

The room again erupts into applause, this time even louder, as Cotton concludes his impromptu speech with several bows and “thank yous.” For a moment, you wonder if you made a run for it now, how far away you get before Selina would catch you.

You feel your wife's hand take yours. “David.” You hear her composed monotone voice.

“David's not here.” You remember when as a child you believed if your eyes were closed you were invisible, you hope it might work now.

“Come on silly, it's time we say our goodbyes.”

Opening your eyes you see your beautiful wife's face is terrifyingly calm, cool and collective. There is now no doubt, you're doomed.

“We have a lot to do tonight, dear.” She states as she leads you by the hand towards Archibald Cotton.

You're whisper of, "please don't kill him" is ignored as Selina approaches the drunk host with a pleasant smile and complete charm. She offers thanks for both of you, and for all of Cotton's kindnesses and efforts for the Children's Hospital.

For a brief hopefully moment, you think Cotton, and maybe yourself, might survive the evening, but then your wife asks him a question, instead of simply leaving. “Mr. Cotton, were you serious about that wager?”

“Of course dear! Archibald A. R. Cotton is always true to his word.”

“So, if someone did steal from you, without anyone getting hurt, what would be your reaction?” Selina inquires.

“Hell! If any man had that amount of nerve and skill, I would buy him a drink.”

“And if the thief was a woman?”

“Aren't you a cute little philly, thinking that a girl could do such things.” He then gives Selina's ass a quick slap.

Unphased, Selina only says, “I see.” And turns to you and says, “Come dear.”

Now knowing what a condemned man feels like while walking to the electric chair, you go with your wife and leave the mansion. As she starts to search for things on her cell you try to dissuade Selina with anything that comes to mind, but the cat clearly has only one focus, and is on her prey.

“So, up for some clubbing? I heard there is a new moombahcore band visiting the city.” You offer.

“Cotton has three major estates in the Metropolis area,” Selina continues to focus on her phone as she starts to describe your upcoming date. “Our objective is to hit all three of them before sunrise.”

“You know, I was thinking, breaking into the observatory does sound like fun, we could give that a try?”

“This is a statement job, so our main purpose is to send a clear message to the mark that he has been robbed, exposed and now completely ****.”

“What a damn fucking crazy night, a real kick in the ass, huh?”

“This means we have to steal the most valuable high profile items. However, since there is only two of us, and time is short, we will have to concentrate on smaller items like jewelry and treasury bonds, and that means safe cracking.”

“Want to go drinking? I really would like to try some bourbon right about now.”

“The first two scores will be straight cat burglaries, in and out, without being seen or detected.”

“You mentioned the suicide hotline, do you have the number?”

“The final score we will end here with a smash and grab, which will put an exclamation point on the job.”

“Selina, I'm sorry, but I want a divorce.”

“Since we want to be around to observe the mark's reaction, this is when we will most likely have contact with a SWAT team. The key thing to remember with them is how they deploy their snipers . . .”

Your wife only interrupts the mission speak to ask the valet for your car. When he mentions the request not to leave Selina simply states,“My husband is a doctor and that he has urgent business to attend to.”

“You know, I had a good life.” You begin to wax philosophical at your appending doom. “Many men did their best writing in prison: Cervantes, Thoreau, King, Wilde.”

“Sweetie,” Your wife tries to get your attention, “Could you give me a minute, I have to call in a favor.”

“Of course.” You sardonically reply, “Call in the entire criminal underworld.”

As you walk away you hear, “Oswald, you old bird! It's Cat, how are you doing? . . .”

You car arrives just as Selina is finishing with her call. As you tip the valet your wife walks behind your car and pops open the trunk. Taking off her heels, scarf and belt Selina places them in the trunk. Unzipping her dress, she strips that off too.

Shaking your head at your hyper-focused wife you notice the valet gawking at your now bra and panty clad lover.

“Come on man.” You complain, “That's my wife, a little privacy here!”

He gives you an incredulous shrug with a “you would look too” face before taking one more glance at Selina and then walking off.

Heading over to your barely dressed wife you watch her pop open a secret compartment in the trunk and take out her Lycra-Kevlar-GoreTex weave mission catsuit and bullwhip.

“Wait!” Your mystified, “When? . . . How? . . . Why? . . . Did you put in a secret storage space in my car? What else have you modified?!”

“We don't have time for that now, dear.” Selina pulls up her zipper. She leans in and kisses you. “Thank you sweetie, I love you.” She flashes you those big green eyes. “You don't know how much this means to me that were going on this date tonight. Don't worry, you will do fine, I will walk you through everything. I'm kind of jealous, being it's your first time and all.”

"No." You feebly state one last time.

She kisses you again, “Let's go, I'll drive.”