Helena Bertinelli

"New morning, new day."

The best way to psyche yourself up after a night of total weirdness. He didn't tell anyone about it. He sincerely doubted they would believe he saw Vicki Vale in lingerie, a black woman who may or may not be the daughter of Lucius Fox blast BWC porn, and a big-titty demigod chick who called for dick.

Who would believe that?

So the next morning, the pizza delivery guy was back at it. A job was a job, after all. After the chaos of the previous night—naked women, loud moans, and a whole lot of awkwardness—he was ready for some peace. He glanced down at the first order of the day: Helena Bertinelli.

It was a normal black townhouse, nothing special. Gotham was known for its dark architecture and gargoyles and stuff. So on the outside, while it looked dark and creepy, for Gotham standards it was quite normal.

He knocked on the townhouse door. The door opened, and there stood the customer. Helena Bertinelli, he presumed—fortunately not in some scandalous outfit, not with any wild background noise. No, she was fully dressed, looking sharp in a sleek black top and jeans. Tanned skin, dark hair that went past her shoulder, and a confident, almost predatory look in her eyes.

"Hey there," Helena greeted, already smooth with a playful edge. She gave him a once-over, eyes lingering just a little too long. "You must be my knight in shining... pizza."

The pizza guy blinked, not expecting this kind of greeting. "Uh, y-yeah. That’s me."

Helena smiled, a smile that was just a little too knowing. An arm against the doorframe, her eyes still fixed on him, she said, "So, what’s a cute guy like you doing delivering pizzas this early in the morning?"

The pizza guy felt his cheeks heat up instantly. "Uh... j-just working," he stammered, suddenly forgetting how to form coherent sentences. He could feel the sweat on the back of his neck as she continued to look him up and down, her gaze clearly meant to fluster him.

"Well," Helena said, her voice dropping a little lower, "you’re doing a great job. Maybe I should order pizza more often."

He swallowed hard, nodding like a complete idiot. "Y-yeah, maybe."

Maybe. Yes, he said maybe. In retrospect, pretty stupid.

Helena smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She took the pizza from his hands, brushing her fingers against his as she did so, her touch light but deliberate. "Thanks for bringing this to me. You’re a lifesaver."

"Uh, n-no problem," he muttered, trying desperately not to trip over his own feet as he backed away. "Enjoy your pizza."

Just as he was about to make his escape, she winked at him. "Oh, I will. You be careful out there, cutie."

He stammered some sort of response—something that was probably meant to be a "thanks" but came out as more of a garbled noise—and practically bolted down the stairs to his car. It wasn’t until he was touching the car handle, heart pounding, that he realized something.

'Wait a minute... she didn’t pay me!'

He whipped himself to the door. The door was already open with Helena leaning on the door with the money. She mouthed, "Forgot something?"

Dejected, he went over and lifted a hand for the money. Helena cockily put it into his hand and closed the door. Why did she do all this?

For fun.

The delivery man sighed and walked to his car again. Of course, like some type of course, it wasn't going to end here. He was juggling his thoughts, wondering how Helena had managed to slip that past him, when his foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk.

"Oh shi—!"

Before he could even react, he went flying forward, the pizza bag slipping from his grip as he fell... right into something warm, soft, and undeniably comforting.

For a moment, he didn’t even realize where he had landed. His face pressed against what felt like the softest pillow in the world—scratch that, better than any pillow. He blinked a few times, then froze as he realized exactly where he was: face first in the most heavenly bosom a man could ever dream of. It was like time stood still.

Momentum was still a thing so he nearly fell. Nearly because he stopped himself. How? By raising a hand and latching onto her boobs. He didn't meant to. He really, really didn't, but human instincts superseded dignity.

'So soft.'

His fingers didn't want to think it. They didn't want to feel the bra on his thumb and the boobs on his other four fingers. He didn't but he did.

Slowly, he pulled himself back, his heart racing. He finally looked up—straight into the serene, patient face of a tall, statuesque woman. She wore glasses, had dark, cascading hair, and a white-collar shirt that did wonders for her figure. The shirt hugged her curves just right, especially around the chest—seriously, who was this goddess?

"I-I-I am so, so sorry!" he stammered, his face burning with embarrassment. His hand had not just been on her chest but they squeezed too! Falling was one thing but coping a feel? That was worse! And he didn't mean to do it, he was just trying to balance himself!

The woman, however, seemed completely unfazed. In fact, she smiled—a warm, patient smile that put him at ease, despite his face being a shade of red he didn’t know was humanly possible.

“It’s alright,” she said in a calm, soothing voice. “Accidents happen.”

Her voice was like silk. The pizza guy blinked a few times, still processing the fact that he had literally faceplanted into this woman’s... well, assets. The kind of assets that could rival even Power Girl’s legendary bosom.

She adjusted her glasses, looking him up and down. "Ah, you deliver pizzas!"

He nodded dumbly, still trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah... yeah, I am. I didn’t mean to—"

“Of course,” she interrupted kindly, waving off his apology as if it were nothing. “Just be careful next time. Your job is more important than you think.”

The pizza guy blinked, surprised at her words. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it again. Why would she say that? He delivered pizzas for a living; it wasn’t like he was saving the world or anything. Still, there was something... oddly comforting about how she said it. Like she genuinely believed it.

She glanced down at the pizza bag he had dropped and smiled. “Your bag is empty but I do smell something from your car." The car had the pizza sign above it but...she could smell it? That was a bit impressive. "It's delicious. I bet someone is absolutely craving it."

"Haha, yeah, ah, probably." Pause. “Y-yeah, I should... uh, get going.” He bent down and grabbed the empty bag, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m really sorry about... uh...”

She chuckled softly. “No harm done."

With that, she gave him a parting nod and started to walk away, her heels clicking softly on the pavement. The pizza guy just stood there for a second, watching her go. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but all he could think about was how... perfect she seemed. Like, who was she? Some random librarian with a body like that? How did that happen?

He finally shook himself out of his daze and placed an arm on his black car. He didn't want to look back and stare at her ass. That felt too perverted. So he stood there and stayed there. He couldn’t help but think about the moment over and over again. His face in her chest. Her soft voice. Her patience. Her... well, everything.

"Is she an actress maybe?"

If she was an actress, why walk in the middle of Gotham? Gotham was _not _for the weak. A full grown man that worked out seven times a week shouldn't be too confident in their chances of surviving a walk alone.

He had no idea, of course, that the woman he had just crashed into was none other than Wonder Woman. The Wonder Woman. Diana Prince herself, who was visiting her close friend and ally Bruce Wayne.

He was completely oblivious to the fact that he had just experienced something most straight men could only dream of.

“Man,” he said as he got back into his car, sighing. Already, he was replaying the moment in his mind. The soft bounce of her chest as he landed into it, the way she didn’t even seem upset... and her words.

"Yeah, today is going to be like last night, isn't it?"