Feet shuffled over dark, damp pavement, apathetically kicking through litter. They kicked aside the remnants of a beer bottle, and I giggled softly when the tinkling of glass over pavement tickled my ears. I sloshed through a shallow puddle, pausing to watch the water shimmer. With the dim light that shone down over me, I saw my reflection, eyes wide with awe and distant amusement. I reached down and let my finger skim the surface, smiling at the ripples I caused.

When my uncanny enjoyment had been somehow fulfilled, I moved on, feet scraping the ground lazily. I saw it before any sort of sound had reached my ears; a shadow shifting across the wall of the alley. I paused, my head lolling languidly to the right as I studied this.

"Say," the nasally voice began, shifting forward more until the dark figure of a man took shape. "say, what is a pretty little girl like you doing out. Alone. At night. Hmm?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but paused at the sounds of crisp steps advancing towards me. He kept on me until we were less than a foot apart. My lead feet couldn't have moved back even if I'd thought about it. He inclined his head toward me in a confidential manner. On his face were smears of white, red and black paint and a faint grin that ended in a Glasgow smile. "Don't you know there's a craaaaazy (he shook his head violently) man on the loose?" he erupted into a shrill laughter that pierced the silence of the alley like a knife.

I knew who this man was. I'd seen him on the news countless times. He was the topic of 80% of all conversation, and had been since his sudden appearance two months ago. I knew that no one knew exactly how many people he killed. I knew that he could easily kill me now.

The only problem was, I was too stoned to make myself care.

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He mistook my stoned silence for fear and laughed; a creepy, bone-chilling cackle. I just looked on, my foggy mind unsure of what action to take. "What's…the…matter?" he asked me, unnecessarily drawing out each word softly. "You look a little nervous," he stated, moving around me. "Just a little tense," he raised his thumb and forefinger with the world 'little', holding them half an inch apart.

I shook my head slowly. "No…" I trailed, forcing my gaze up to his. Neither of us moved, but the alley seemed to spin around me for the briefest of moments. That was some good skank, but at the moment I was close to regretting having smoked it. That annoyed me. Who was this painted freak to cut my high short? "No, I'm fine," I slurred out softly, and because I was under the influence and an uneasy fluttering had begun in my stomach, the statement sounded slightly less than convincing.

He laughed again and regarded me with skeptical eyes. "Not nervous, eh?" his tongue darted out across his lips quickly and suddenly there was a blade in his hand. "Why's that do you think?"

I shrugged, a smile forming on my lips. Why wasn't I scared? The most wanted man in Gotham was standing inches away from me, weapon in hand, we were alone in a dark alley at 2:30 in the morning, and I was so fucking chopped, that I couldn't even make myself care! The whole thing was so funny to my doped mind that I found a giggle was bubbling up from my soul and spilling off of my lips before I could stop it.

He smiled in response, and I laughed harder, doubling over, one hand shooting out to support myself with the brick wall next to me. I kept laughing until tears formed in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks, and when I attempted to sober myself and looked up at the clown before me, I laughed harder. Somewhere along the way my hand had moved from the wall to clutching his exotic purple lapel, and when it registered that it wasn't just my maniacal laughter bouncing through the alley, I almost collapsed to the ground with the new wave of giddiness that washed over me.

I forced deep breaths and shook my head, trying to remember why I was laughing in the first place. The sudden concentration helped rail me in a little more, and I chanced a glance upward, straightening myself. The lapel of his coat was still bunched in my fisted hands. His laughter had died out as well, and he stared at me, smiling wide. The knife still resided in his right hand, but they came to rest of my hips lightly regardless, pulling me slightly closer.

A satisfying jolt shot from my heart to my groin, and I felt my breath hitch in my chest. My hands were curled loosely, but still rested against his hard chest. The material of his coat scratched my hands as I willed myself even closer, looking up into his eyes hungrily. It was the dope. It had to be. I had a long track record for stupid decisions because smoking pot had made me more than a tad horny. "I'm so stoned," I admitted softly, a fresh wave of giggles washing over me. He continued smiling, one of his hands reaching around to rest on the small of my back, drawing me closer with the action.

Each chest brushed the others lightly, and I was sure he could feel the vibration from my pounding heart. My pulse throbbed in my ears, deafening out all other sounds save for our breathing, mine ragged and erratic, his shallow and controlled. All it took was for me to look up, just tilt my head up and our lips would connect. Despite my treacherous hormones urging me on, I couldn't complete the simple task. His knife-wielding hand shifted and as the cool silver met the bottom of my chin my eyes fluttered shut, black replacing the purple and green of his suit. I kept them closed lightly as the pressure on the blade increased, tilting my face up towards his inch by inch. The slight moan that escaped my throat as our lips touched couldn't be helped, and I blamed it on the drugs. Why was I such a pothead, anyways?

The metal left, disposed of somewhere, and then his hand was cupping my cheek softly, his other hand stroking my spine slowly. My hands decided to travel upwards until they wrapped around his neck, and his tongue slipped in to meet mine. My trembling hands wrapped themselves in soft, dirty curls, deepening our kiss. I barely noticed when he shifted us so I was pressed up against the wall behind me.

He broke the contact between our lips but didn't move otherwise. His warm breath blew over my face, his chest raising and falling slightly quicker than it had been a moment ago. I knew the look that was frozen on my features: eyes lidded, mouth slightly open, eyebrows furrowed in slight frustration due to the pause, and, above all else, despite every emotion that I was feeling that moment, my expression was that of lust. Pure. Unadulterated. Lust. It was my strongest emotion at that time, and the drugs were anything but kind to that fact—I left myself faaaaar too vulnerable in situations such as these. No poker face. Pot won't allow it. I'm just too loose. Which might have been my biggest problem at that time.

It was late. Very late. And the Joker had me alone. In an alley. Wrapped in his arms. Begging for more. Silently, sure, but still begging him for it. Please kiss me again, just once more, come on please, please, please do it. I want you. I need that feeling. Feels so good. So exhilarating. Come on, kiss me, kiss me, please, come on…

My eyes fluttered open when he didn't answer my silence calls, and was met with the most intense gaze I'd ever witnessed; sharp, humorous, and with enough lust to match my own. "More," was all I could manage, and to my surprise (and delight) the word came out as more of a command than the desperate plea it was in my body. It was all he needed, for only seconds passed before his lips were on mine again, and I was whimpering in pleasure. He didn't stay there long, and I reflexively tilted my head to one side as his lips traveled down my neck.

"God!" I gasped involuntarily as his tongue darted across a particularly sensitive spot below my ear. He laughed against my skin, but it wasn't a laugh I'd ever heard from him before: short, soft, pleased. When he stayed there, teasing me with nips and licks, I decided that this couldn't go unanswered. I shifted away from his mouth and found my opportunity to dive at his own neck, biting, kissing and licking the soft flesh there. He smelled like gasoline, and the scent was intoxicating, dizzying my already spinning head. His hands wrapped into my hair as I worked, urging me on. I soon found his own sensitive area, and as his raspy moan met my ears I tingled with pleasure.

I pulled back, needing more of his lips and that expert tongue, but before I could go for the gold a voice sounded from the entrance of the alley.

"Boss?" It came soft and urgent. "Boss, we need to—"

Neither of us knew what they had to do; the secret died with the interrupter. I was barely aware of him pocketing the gun again, but the whole situation was so funny to me that I giggled. This was not a man you wanted to interrupt during sexy-time. His hands traveled up my back slowly, pulling our bodies closer, and before I knew it his lips were on mine again. The scars at the side of his mouth brushed against me as our tongues battled, sending another gratifying jolt to my groin. It was an odd feeling, but I liked it. A cop car flew past the alley in which we stood wrapped in each other's arms, siren wailing, and it seemed that was what it took to snap him back to reality.

"Oops," he stated, chuckling softly. "Forgot," he smiled down at me, and I bit my lip. I liked the way he looked at me. "I'm supposed to be escaping."

We giggled together softly at the blunder. "That was probably what he wanted to tell you," I pointed out softly, nodding in the dead man's direction.

His response was merely a grin, and I think it may have been that way because his eyes were doing that dark, intense, lustful thing again, sending jolts to my every nerve. As if remembering yet again that he was supposed to be doing something, he smiled and backed off of me quickly, digging into a pocket in his coat.

"Tell ya what, gorgeous," he said lightly, his fingers grasping what he'd been searching for. "Here's my card," he was brushing against me again as he slipped said card into my shaking fingers. "I'll see you again. Real. Soon."

All I could do was nod dumbly before he took off down the alley, hanging a quick right onto a side street. I stared at the spot where he disappeared for awhile before my fingers twitched, reminding me of what I possessed. I looked down at it, turning around slowly.

A regular playing card, with an intricate design of black diamonds and lines; the face of the card revealed a dancing, red Joker.

In the distance, I heard laughter.

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That's it for now, kiddies! Should I continue this? Not sure...