Hello! This is my first Batman story. Constructive critisism welcomed. :)

There he was...standing on the other side of the floor. My eyes were addicted. It couldn't be helped. Hey, before you call me a creeper or something of that sort, I'm not the only one. There were countless women who did much more. Examples include: asking him questions, fixing their hair and/or makeup every hour (for the extremists, every few minutes), wearing revealing attire...well, you get the picture . So, taking those factors into account, I was one of the calmer admirers.

Who was the person causing all of this? Handsome billionaire Bruce Wayne. His silky dark brown hair was parted and slicked back. He had a perfected chiseled face with a strong jawline, but softened by lines appearing near his mouth when he smiled, showing those straight, white teeth. His Armani suit flattered his built, muscular frame. The looks department is just a small fraction when it comes to Bruce Wayne. He's highly charismatic and intelligent, always thinking of new ideas to improve the company. His charm wins over all the ladies. He moves with such grace and flawlessness, like he just stepped off a runway.

I was one of the luckier admirers. I was employed at Wayne Enterprises as a messenger. I basically ran around the building all day delivering and receiving messages. It was my daily work out going from floor to floor constantly. Despite that, my job was interesting every day, seeing journalists, paparazzi, and fan-girls trying to enter the building.

With my staring I didn't notice my best friend, Jacey, approach me until she loudly cleared her throat.

I jumped up, startled. "Oh, God. Jace, please don't do that," I said, returning to my chair. She looked where I was staring before, and a sly smirk formed on her lips, "Oh, I see you were busy," she winked at me. I blushed at being caught.

"It's time to stop sightseeing and start pursuing, woman!" Jacey has always been the outspoken one, saying how she feels and not caring about the aftermath. A blessing and a curse.

I sighed sadly, "It's not that easy." I glanced back at the place Mr. Wayne was last standing; he was gone.

"Oh, yes it is! First step is to get your ass to his floor. Maybe cause an 'accident'." I rolled my eyes at her suggestion. Many female workers tried that every day. No way I would want to copy what some fake, attention seeking girl did.

"Okay...how about-?" Jacey started to say but stopped as Mr. Fox approached us. I silently thanked the heavens for that.

I turned to Mr. Fox. "Yes, Mr. Fox, how may I help you?" I gave him a small smile. Mr. Fox was an awesome boss, being kind and understanding of his employees.

"Chasity, could you deliver these envelopes to Mr. Wayne's office? I would do it personally, but I'm a bit tied up in the basement," Mr. Fox asked. Over his shoulder, Jacey winked at me and skipped away.

"Um, sure," I said, but in reality I was very unsure. I never went to Mr. Wayne's floor for two reasons. First, I never had to deliver messages to that floor and second, I was scared. Mr. Fox smiled a knowing smile, before handing me the envelopes and taking his leave.

I pulled on my wild auburn hair. "Am I really that obvious?" I yelled, my voice rising with every word. I received some stares from passerby, but I didn't care. I had enough to deal with.

My legs felt like jelly all the way to and entering the elevator. Thank goodness there was no one else in there. I glanced at the elevator panel. There sat that cursed level number. It would either take me to paradise or complete hell. I was crossing my fingers for the first option. I pushed the button and up I went. While ascending, I took deep breaths.

1,2,3 ...breathe. Just like in that one yoga class Jacey dragged me to. Oh, the hell with this! I thought, That class was total bull, anyway.

The elevator bell rung, telling me of my arrival. The doors opened revealing a secretary desk, in front of the nicest offices in the building. Who was sitting there? I thought, squinting my eyes as I walked towards it. Oh, no...it's Lillian Moore. I never talked to her during my entire employment, but I have seen her around the building and heard her voice and heard from close co-workers about her attitude. She was 'pretty', with a model's body and long, well-kept hair. (I call bull and say those are extensions.)

Her icy blue eyes scanned me, sizing me up. Satisfied with my inferior (non-designer) appearance, a sneer appeared on her glossed pink lips. I didn't meet her gaze, deciding to glance down at the magazine she was reading. It was Cosmopolitan and the article read "50 Moves to Pleasure Your Man". I shuddered.

She always highly boasted that she could get any man that she wanted. Every time a woman would walk by, she'd loudly tell the details of whoever she went out with the night before. Jacey was always annoyed by her. One time she took Britney Spears song, "Gimme More", and made her own version "Whore Moore" and put it up on her blog on Tumblr. It was pure gold, resulting in so many views. Ah, good times.

"Well?" she said, annoyed that I was taking up her precious time. I brought my eyes to meet hers. Her sneer grew larger as she noticed what I was looking at before, she said, "Like you have any man to pleasure."

That stung a bit. Thanks to someone overhearing me and Jacey's conversation one day, many people knew of my complete virgin self. Never kissed, never held hands with a guy, never had a boyfriend and certainly never...well, you know.

Before I even knew what I was saying, I retorted with, "At least I don't shop at Whores R Us. You have so many men that you can give them ….what? 5 moves each? Or do you give them all the whole package?" Man, Jacey was rubbing off on me. If she was here, she'd be telling Lillian to get "some ice for that burn". Before, she could respond, an elevator bell rung and its doors opened. Out walked Bruce Wayne.