There are many stories in the Naked City - but who cares? You are more interested in those who are naked in the city, aren't you?
This is the second installment in a series of anecdotal tales of the desperate and the not so desperate, of the lucky and the not so lucky, and of the memorable and not so memorable exploits of real barflies.
What tale of sordid goings-on would be complete without the involvement of one of law enforcement's finest? Here we begin with a tale that could only be called ....
Tom was a patrol officer with fifteen years of experience on the force. Like any veteran cop, he knew his way around the seedy dives that lay hidden in the back streets and alleys of Boston. Many of us know about those special "secret" dins of iniquity, and have a favorite of our own. The story begins in one such hidden jewel in the Financial District of downtown Boston. Its motif was that of early bathroom. Its walls were decorated with enlarged photos of regular denizens framed in toilet seats. The walls were often referred to as the "Hall of Shame," and sometimes the less flattering sobriquet "Hall of Assholes" was used. (The author will admit to be a card carrying member of that exclusive club.)
....Sgt. Tom also had his picture up there, but his had center stage over the bar. This night he took a fancy to a pretty young thing seated at the end of the bar by herself. She had rebuffed all earlier attempts by several men to join her. Tom was undaunted and walked over to where she sat. Maybe because she recognized him from his likeness on the wall, or maybe he actually charmed her, for he soon sat next to her engaged in conversation. The bartender said he probably flashed his badge to break the ice. After only twenty minutes or so, the two of them got up and left the bar together. Jim, an officer from the same precinct shook his head and said, "Damn, we'll be hearing about this all morning down at the station. I wouldn't doubt it if he already knew her and made arrangements to meet her here."
....The rest of the story was pieced together by Jim and a couple of other cops from the same precinct as they told us at the bar soon after that night. After a short cab ride to her home, a second-floor flat in a quiet neighborhood on the South Side, he knew how his night would end. It turns out that our femme fatale was into foreplay that consisted of wearing costumes. Tom had no problem with kinky sex. She handed him a box and told him to change in the bathroom while she changed there in the bedroom. Soon she was decked out in a slinky black leather cat costume, complete with an eared cowl and a tail. She propped herself up on some pillows in a provocative pose waiting for Tom.
....When door opened, there stood - Batman! He was naked except for a one-piece cape and cowl with large pointed ears. Although he had no utility belt, he was obviously armed to do battle with the Cat Woman. His weapon was aimed at her as advanced on the bed. Presumably at her request, he climbed upon her dresser and stood there with his fists clinched on his hips. Then he launched himself from the dresser, diving headlong at her.
....His trajectory, however, did not allow for a ceiling fan. The cape caught on one of the spinning blades. Even with the addition of his weight, the fan did not fall from the ceiling. Before he had a chance to react, the cape began to wrap around his neck. He landed on his knees at the foot of the bed. He was starting to have difficuly breathing as he struggled to loosen the cape from his neck. There was a smell of smoke as the fan's motor began to over heat. Just then the fan blade snapped in half. The sudden slack caused him to fall backward and his head struck hard against the dresser.
....Cat Woman tried in vain to awaken him. He had been knocked unconscious. Anxiety set in as she picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1. She told the dispatcher she thought the man was dead. In fifteen minutes two cruisers pulled up in front of the house. Five minutes later an ambulance and a fire truck arrived. In the meantime, she had managed to free him from the cape and cowl. He was moaning and coming to when the officers entered the room. He was dazed and didn't recognize his brethren cops, but they knew who he was right away, they were from the same station house as he.
....Insisting he was okay and refusing to go the hospital, the firemen and the EMTs left. The two policemen remained to get statements from Batman and Cat Woman. Tom, as it turned out, was none the worse for wear. He did have some curious welts on his neck, which we learned later that he explained were the result of a scuffle with some hood. He called in sick for a couple of days with a sore throat and a cold.
....When he showed up for work, he was his usual cocky self as he strolled into the locker room. There was a growing crowd of his fellow officers gathering at the end of the row of lockers. They roared with laughter when he opened the locker to discover a complete Batman costume hanging there. From somewhere behind, someone was playing a recording of the Batman theme from the television show.
....He took quite a ribbing for two weeks or so. They weren't going to let him live it down until they'd had their fun. One day when he went to the car pool to get the car he had been assigned, he had to laugh himself when he found a large replica of the bat chest emblem taped across the drivers side door.
....No one knows if he ever tangled with Cat Woman again, if he did he never said. He had learned one thing though, to always look before you leap.
....Thus ends another tale from the "Distaff and Datstaff" files. Stay tuned to the same Bat Blog for another tale of the naked in the Naked City.