Fuchsia Fox: “Return to Club X”
Chapter 1 —
Somewhere in the wilds of Maryland, Jennifer Fletcher turned the Subaru off the pitch dark, rain-slick secondary road, passing through an open gate and into a parking lot. About forty or so cars were already there, parked in front of a sprawling, two-story building with a peaked structure in the center. Jennifer’s first impression was a school until she noticed the heavy bars on the windows; then she thought of a prison or an institution for the criminally insane. With no lights visible in the windows, it looked abandoned and creepy. Lightning flashed briefly in the clouds overhead.
“This looks like the place, Angel,” said her husband Martin in the passenger seat. “Check out the sign.”
Hanging beside the door was a piece of cardboard which proclaimed in hand-written calligraphy: “Arkham Asylum — Enter at your own risk!”
Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief as she parked the car. To celebrate finally getting her license, she had been driving, and for the last ten miles she had been worried that she had copied the address down incorrectly in the GPS unit. She opened her door and got out into the light, misting rain that was still falling.
Martin had already emerged from his side. He was wearing a Batman costume — a black rayon/spandex body suit which his hard, manly body filled out scrumptiously, with a bat chest emblem, cape and belt. He pulled the cowl and mask up over his face, adjusting the eyeholes so that he could see.
“Remember to call me Gina,” Jennifer reminded him, as she slipped off the long-sleeved shirt she had been wearing in the car, revealing her Fuchsia Fox costume underneath. The purplish-pink halter top clung snugly to the soft curves of her upper body, with the fox head emblem hugging her modest breasts. Below her bare midriff was a 14-inch miniskirt flirting around her elegant legs. On her feet were ankle boots and on her arms were elbow length gloves, plus her gold bracelets of Ishtar.
“I’ll remember,” Martin said, watching as the Fox donned a matching domino mask. “It’s almost like being undercover, isn’t it?”
“Almost,” the heroine replied with a wink, tossing her short brunette hair over her smooth bare shoulder as they crossed the parking lot and mounted the steps to the entrance.
As Martin opened the door, they could see black paper covering the glass, so that from the outside, the building appeared deceptively deserted. In actual fact, however, the lobby was well-lit and guarded by a big, muscular bald man wearing the baggy off-white uniform of an asylum orderly. He looked them over and checked a clipboard. “You must be new inmates…” he said with a wicked sneer.
“I’m Gina,” the Fox said brightly. “I’m a guest of Dora.”
“Ah, very good,” the bouncer said, checking something off his clipboard. “If you have cell phones, you have to leave them with me. Club X rules.”
The Fox had left hers locked in the car, but Martin handed his over. The bouncer placed it in a numbered bag and gave him a claim ticket. “Follow this corridor and hang a right,” he said with a motion. “Enjoy yourselves.”
Martin and the Fox did as they were told. The hallway itself did not inspire confidence. A framed directory sign was hanging askew, its glass cracked and smeared with what looked suspiciously like blood. The tiled floor had been recently waxed and buffed, but it was strewn with debris — here and there stacks of papers, broken laboratory flasks, a syringe, and a single empty white sneaker. And all the while, the fluorescent lights above them flickered disconcertingly.
“They really go in for ambiance, don’t they?” said Martin, squeezing Jennifer’s hand.
They soon reached the intersection and turned right. Ahead of them was a pair of swinging double doors. Just then, the lights went off entirely, plunging them into almost complete darkness. The Fox gasped and threw her arms around Martin’s neck, her heart pounding in her chest. “Relax,” he said, his hand rubbing her pert bottom reassuringly. “It’s probably just more ambiance.”
“Of course it is,” Jennifer whispered, blushing. Some superheroine she was, to let herself get spooked by a simple trick like that. Sheepishly she extracted herself from her husband’s arms, and sure enough, the lights came on again.
A beautiful girl was now standing in the corridor in front of the double doors. Her dark hair hung in long, limp strands, half covering her face. Her body seemed to be dressed in a straitjacket and nothing else. Her arms were loosely crossed in front of her chest, bound in the garment’s bulky sleeves, the ends of which were strapped behind her. The rest of her was nude. The girl’s feet and legs were bare, and the only thing covering her snatch was a narrow canvas strap about two tantalizing inches wide which passed between her legs under the tail of the jacket and was secured by a buckle to its front.
“Batman!” the girl suddenly cried, tossing her hair back to reveal piercing blue eyes. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here to rescue me! There’s been a mistake! I don’t belong here!” She ran forward on bare feet and threw her slender form against Martin’s broad chest, sobbing.
Taken by surprise, Martin had little choice but to wrap his arms around the girl’s nubile body and catch her, since her hands were bound. “Hey, just take it easy, miss…” he said, bewildered.
“I’m rational! Can’t you see that?” the girl sobbed, pressing her face to his and kissing everything that wasn’t covered by his mask. “I don’t belong in an asylum! I’ll do anything to be rescued!”
It was surprising how much freedom of motion her restraints gave her as she rubbed herself seductively against the front of Martin’s costume. As he tried to get hold of her, he unexpectedly found his hands under the tail of her straitjacket cupping the girl’s smooth, bare butt cheeks. Using her elbows, she hoisted herself higher into his arms, planting a wet, erotic kiss right on his mouth, while letting her moist cleft slide enticingly along his muscular, spandex-sheathed thigh. The Fox, standing right next to him, could only imagine how Little Martin must be reacting to all of this, down inside his tights!
“L-listen, miss…” Martin stammered, struggling to get a hold of her squirming, wriggling curves. “Gina, do you think you could help me out here?”
“You’re Batman,” the Fox said impishly, with a wink, folding her arms. “I’m sure you can handle it.”
“Please, I beg of you,” the girl whimpered. “I’ll do anything, my Dark Knight…” Suddenly going limp, she allowed her body to slide slowly and sensuously down Martin’s front, planting hungry kisses along his chest, his abs, and his belly as she dropped to her knees at his feet, where her open mouth pressed against the huge bulge which was visible in the clingy spandex front of his costume.
Suddenly the double doors crashed open. Two men in orderly uniforms rushed out, grabbing the girl’s arms on either side. “Trying to escape again, Lizzie?” smirked one of the men. “The Director will be displeased.”
“Please! I don’t belong here!” the girl sobbed, her bare legs kicking as they lifted her helplessly off the floor and carried her back the way they had come.
Martin started after them, but the Fox laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Role-playing, sweetie,” she explained. “Come on.” She took his hand and led him through the double doors.