Musical Chairs

When Harley Quinn returned, with a black eye, a bloody nose, a slightly smashed birthday cake and the three most expensive bottles of champagne in existence, she found the room lit only by candles. All the furniture had been pushed to the edges of the lab, save for a circle of four chairs.

Three of them had dildos of various sizes.

One had a whoopie cushion.

Lois Lane and Poison Ivy stood, naked, waiting for her to arrive.

As soon as the Clown Princess of Crime appeared, bells jingling on her jester's cap, Ivy reached out and let the record begin to play.

Scratches. Pops.

Then the music began to play...

Harley's miscolored eyes grew wide.

"Oh Ives," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You remembered!"

"Hurry up, Harleen," Ivy said with a smile. "If you want to play, you need to be naked..."

Ivy squeezed Lois Lane's left breast. The naked reporter gave a gasp and squirted a little, the hot juice running down her thighs, knees wobbling. Her nipples were hard, and her face hurt...she couldn't remember the last time she had smiled this long or hard...or been this wet...

Cake and bottles hit the floor with a clatter. Harley Quinn's fingers fumbled with the hidden zipper, which ran from throat to crotch, and pulled off her red-and-black checkered tights to reveal a slim, pink, extraordinarily toned body...dotted here and there with new bruises and old scars. It reminded Lois of seeing a ballerina take off her shoes...the muscles, the calluses, the little imperfections like the chips in an ancient statue...

With a hop, skip, and a jump, the naked blonde birthday girl joined them...chasing each other around the circle of chairs...and then the record skipped, and it was time to sit...