Asprin, Robert Lynn – Catwoman – Tiger Hunt (With Lynn Abbey)

“Takes one to know one,” she said aloud, surprising herself and the wino in a darkened doorway.

“You tell ’em, sister. Got any change? A smoke? A light?”

One-handedly buttoning her raincoat and hunching her shoulders around the kitten, Selina kept going. She didn’t like being on the streets after dark—at least not without the costume. It was altogether too easy to become a victim.

Like Rose.

She was thinking about Rose and victims when she came in sight of a clutch of youths. They’d staked a claim to a lamppost with macho posturing and a pumping boombox. The kitten struggled; Selina needed both hands to comfine him. The motion—pressing both hands against her breasts—drew unwanted attention.

Selina saw herself with their eyes: a woman, alone, wringing her hands with terror. It didn’t matter whether she was hideous or attractive. It didn’t matter that she was the master of kinds of martial arts that won fights, not exhibitions. For an instant Selina felt the look she’d seen in Rose’s eyes.

They whistled and propositioned her lewdly. One of the punks swaggered onto the street.

“You wanna dance?” He stood with his feet apart, hips slightly forward, and the bill of his baseball cap shielding his eyes. “C’mon, bitch.” He took his hands out of his pockets. “You gonna get it whether you want it or not.”

Everything conspired against her, from the squirming kitten to the clothes she was wearing. She didn’t look like Catwoman; she didn’t feel like Catwoman. And the punk was moving closer. Then a finger of ice skipped down her spine. Her gut shrank and the fear turned to rage.