The unmarked black Sports Utility Vehicle cruised gently to a halt next to the curb. A man in a dark suit stepped out of the passenger side of the front, and went to the rear SUV door on the curbside, and opened it. Black Widow stepped out of the car, still dressed in her costume of black PVC, but covered by a khaki trench coat, perfectly suited for the wet weather that had been visited upon New York City lately. On her head, she wore a khaki felt hat that matched the color of her trench coat. She ducked her head back into the SUV and said, "Good night Senator. Thanks for the lift."
A muffled voice replied something and Black Widow took a step back and watched the man in the dark suit close the door, a bit louder than he should have, this early in the morning. She had had a long flight back to the United States on the SHIELD Globemaster, during which she endured a long debriefing process about her mission. It was something she had gotten used to, and her enhanced stamina allowed her to remain focused during those hours. They landed at the John F Kennedy Airport just a couple of hours ago, where a SHIELD convoy of SUVs awaited Black Widow and other SHIELD agents, and they were conveyed back into the city, where the one Black Widow rode on was diverted to her apartment.
Black Widow looked up at the dull-toned Brownstone townhouse, one of a row that lined the street leading down towards the Hudson River. A steep staircase rose from the street to the front door of the building, which was almost on a second story. The whole building had been converted into an apartment block, where the various floors had been divided up into small apartments to cater to single professionals. One of the studios had been acquired by SHIELD and used as a safe house.
This was the one that SHIELD had arranged for Black Widow to stay in while she was in New York City. While she also had accommodations at Avengers Tower, she preferred to stay in this apartment when she was not on Avengers business, as it was more discreet and private. Stepping out of Avengers Tower had always been an ordeal, with gawkers, tourists, and, worse, paparazzi, lying in wait outside to catch sight of one of the Avengers. She was a particularly popular target of the latter, given her beauty.
Black Widow's face, with its high cheekbones, smothering eyes, straight nose, and thick luscious lips, had always found favor amongst the public and the media. She found herself on the covers of magazines frequently, like some celebrity, which was ironic since she was supposed to be a spy. Pictures of her in her skin-tight elastic costume that clung to her shapely body were especially popular, but those of her in a bikini, which showed off her curvy figure and heavy breasts, also frequently showed up on magazines. There was no such thing as privacy for her anymore. This safe house, at least, remained unknown to the general public, and when suitably disguised or dressed, she could move about without anyone recognizing her.
Black Widow climbed the steep staircase up to the front door and took out the key to gain admission into the building. The narrow hallway behind was dimly lit by a single bulb fitted into an ancient flower-shaped glass lampshade, screwed into the side of the wall, next to the narrow staircase that ran up the left side of the hallway. The floor and the steps of the staircase were a checkerboard of black and white marble, but the soft soles of Black Widow's boots barely squeaked on them as she mounted the steps quickly. Her phenomenal physical fitness allowed her to make her way
quickly to the very top floor, where her studio apartment was, without difficulty.
There were two units here, one with its door right next to the stairs landing, with a view overlooking the street in front. Her well-trained mind recalled that a blonde model lived in that apartment. Almost automatically, her brain then assessed what information she had of the woman. She was in her early twenties, and was much taller than Black Widow, being almost six feet in height in her bare feet, but her figure was straighter, with smoother hips than Black Widow, and her chest was considerably flatter. She frequently wore expensive designer wear, which was gifts from admirers.
She also frequently brought men back to her apartment, and sometimes, Black Widow could hear the dull rhythmic thumping of their love-making. She had been thoroughly vetted by SHIELD when she first moved in, and aside from a questionable hedonistic lifestyle, there was nothing that indicated danger. Black Widow recalled briefly that she saw the model brought back a man just before she left for her mission. She had run into them as she left her apartment. He was waiting patiently while the model, a little drunk, was trying to find the key to her apartment.
The model was wearing the tiniest of a little black dress, with spaghetti straps barely holding it up, a plunging neckline that showed off much of her boobs, barely covering the aureole of her breasts, and offering a glimpse of the pink satin bra she wore underneath. As for the hem, it hovered just beneath her buttocks. She wore a pair of sheer black pantyhose and a pair of high heel black PVC pumps that placed her in even more danger of flashing her panties as she bent over and tried to insert her key into the lock.
The man was a good-looking one, especially in his sharp suit, and he wore a nice cologne which she took a whiff of as she brushed past the man. She could not help but stole a glance at the man and he smiled at her, obviously used to attractive women looking at him. She smiled back despite herself, before leaving.
Black Widow's apartment was in the back, via a narrow corridor that led to its heavy wooden front door. The door was deceptive. It was constructed from heavy armored steel. It seemed to have a simple lock that was opened by a key, but the lock held a hidden scanner that would only unlock when someone wearing the right RFID chip came up to it. This was Black Widow, who wore one of the chips in her costume. The door clicked open softly as she approached, and she pushed it open. A tiny sliver of toothpick dropped onto the floor near to where the door hinged open. She smiled and picked it up. It was an old habit, but she always inserted a toothpick into the gap between the door and the side of the doorframe.
Should anyone open the door while she was gone, the toothpick would drop out, often unnoticed. This would give her some warning should anyone be lying in wait beyond the door.
The apartment, however, stood empty as Black Widow entered. Of a sudden, Black Widow felt a pang of loneliness but quickly shook it off as she entered the apartment. A small kitchen area stood immediately behind the door, which she hardly used as she rarely cooked, either for herself or for any guests. A light layer of dust lay on the countertop, accumulated from the time she was gone. A refrigerator hummed softly in a corner, and she went up to it, opening it to glance inside. She had made sure to toss out anything that might expire while she was gone, and it was now holding
mainly bottles of vodka, one of her few vices, properly chilled and ready for consumption. She selected a half-empty bottle, and unscrewed its cap, and took a swig of the fiery clear liquid. Immediately, she could feel the vodka hit her stomach.
Beyond the kitchen was a small table, enough for only a few persons to sit around. This was adequate since she rarely had visitors. She hardly even invite any of her teammates over, lest they draw attention to the apartment. A few aluminum chairs were arranged around the small table, their curved backs with the characteristic three struts arching away from the light-colored Scandinavian teak top of the table.
Beyond the table was a square room, dominated by a large iron queen-sized bed, with a headboard and footboard fitted with vertical struts. The only other piece of furniture was a writing desk, with another aluminum chair in front of it.
The left side of the apartment was occupied by the washroom and the closet. Opening the latter, Black Widow ran her eyes over the few street clothes she had, hanging from a chromed bar running across the length of the shallow closet. She was never one for keeping many clothes. She was busy with her career, and she only needed her costume when she was on her job unless she needed to wear a disguise, in which case she would buy something appropriate to the occasion. A set of drawers at one corner of the closet held her underwear, and a few pairs of shoes and boots were arranged neatly on the floor of the closet. She took off her hat and tossed it onto the top of the desk, before taking any swig from the vodka bottle and putting it on the desk. She shrugged off her trench coat, which she hung up next to her other street clothes. Then, she touched the side of the closet, which swung open with a soft click to reveal a storage compartment. Several of Black Widow's costume was hung here in the narrow space of the compartment. Next to the costumes were several black rifles and a rack of pistols. This was the secret armory of the safehouse. She pulled out the PM pistol from her holster and placed it in an empty slot on the pistol rack, next to the pair of Glock 26s that she would usually carry in thigh holsters. The AK rifle was a SHIELD-issued weapon and she had already returned it to the Globemaster's armory. Black Widow unbuckled her belt, with its disk grenades and empty holster, coiled it up into a large bundle, and placed it into the bottom of the armory.
Leaving the door open, Black Widow walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on it. She bent down and untied the shoelaces of her boots, before plucking them off her feet. She then pulled the thick woolen socks that had clad her feet for days, wincing as she caught a whiff of them.
Standing back up, Black Widow braced herself for a moment against the desk. She felt a bit light-headed. It must be the vodka. Like all Russians, she could normally hold her alcohol, but her tiredness must have had an effect. Nonetheless, the effect soon passed, and she stood up straight and reached for the buckle of the belt on her Black Widow costume. It had the symbol of the Black Widow embossed on it, two triangles arranged one on top of the other, with the one on top being turned upside down, with its tip merging with the tip of the bottom triangle. Pressing this emblem unlocked the belt, allowing her to let it drop onto the floor. She reached up to her throat and grasped the zipper at the collar of her costume. Pulling it down, it ran down its track, cleaving the front of her costume in half. As the two halves parted from each other, they revealed the deep cleavage between her breasts, the latter clad in a black cotton sports bra, then the flatness of her stomach, before revealing the black cotton of her panties. She took hold of the front of the halves, and pulled them away from her
body, shrugging them off her shoulders, to reveal the design of the sports bra she wore. It had thin shoulder straps, but a thick chest band, holding large soft fabric cups over her heavy breasts, both supporting them and pushing them enticingly together.
Black Widow pulled the costume down her arms, peeling the sleeves down her lightly muscled limbs like the skin of a banana. She pulled her hands out from the embrace of the elastic fabric before grasping the costume at her hips and pulling the fabric wider to allow her to slid it past her rounded hips and buttocks, to reveal that the panties she wore were a thong so that she would not leave any panty lines pressing against the elastic fabric on the butt of her costume.
Clad now only in her underwear, Black Widow went into the washroom. It was as spartan as the rest of the apartment, having only a shower stall, a basin, and a toilet, all somehow squeezed into a small space. She quickly peeled off her underwear and walked into the shower. Soon, hot soothing water washed down her body and she quickly proceeded to scrub off days of accumulated dirt and grime. When she was done, she pulled a towel from a rack over the toilet and dried herself. She glanced herself briefly in the mirror of the medicine cabinet mounted above the basin. A still-youthful face stared back at her, the result of her slowed aging process, which was a by-product of the Soviet experiments performed on her at the Red Room.
That meant she had survived several lovers and even a husband. That also meant that she almost would inevitably lose the ones she loved. It had become hard for her to share any intimacy with any normal men, and the closest people to her now were her teammates, especially Hawkeye and Captain America, but these were more friendships than true love. Again, she felt a pang of loneliness, which she brushed off once more.
Going back into the room, Black Widow opened her underwear drawer and rummaged through it to find a comfortable set of panties. She found, instead, a set of black bra and panties, mixed in together with her underwear. For a moment, her hands ran over the satin material of the cups of the bra and the crotch of the panties, luxuriating at their soft feel. These were trimmed with black lace, lined with elastic to allow them to embrace her body closely. She had bought them a long time ago on an assignment when she had to seduce a man to infiltrate a building. She had loved them so much that she had kept them. They made her feel sexy and attractive.
On a lark, Black Widow pulled them out and laid them on the bed. She pulled apart the elastic band of the panties, spreading them to allow her to step into its leg holes. She pulled the panties up her legs until they embraced her body, spreading their lacy straps over her hips, before plunging to clad her crotch with black satin. Then she took the bra, and pulled the chest band around her torso, hooking them up behind her back. Then she pulled the thin elastic shoulder straps over her shoulders, before plopping each of her heavy breasts into their satin cups. The black lace trimmings of the cups spread up diagonally over the pale flesh of her mounds, emphasizing their plumpness and curvature.
Black Widow returned to her drawer, digging deeper for a garment she knew was there. She dug out a black lacy garter belt after a while and pulled the garment around her waist. Four satin straps hung from the elastic belt over her hips, down her thighs, waiting to be attached to stockings. She tucked these under the waistband of her panties, before pulling them
straight out and down in preparation to hold the stockings. These she found in another drawer, a pair of sheer black satin stockings with a seam running down each of the back. She took them to the bed and sat back on it, before pulling the stockings up her legs. Then she used the clasps at the end of the straps of the garter belt to hold them up. She got up, walked back to the closet and took out a pair of high-heeled pumps that she rarely wore made of black PVC with five-inch heels, and bent over to pull each of them onto her stockinged feet, bending over to do the buckles on their ankle straps. Then she stood up and admired herself in the mirror mounted on the door of the closet. She thought she looked stunningly erotic in lingerie. The bra boosted her breasts and pushed them together to form a seductive cleavage. Her panties were of the thong design, which left her buttocks beautifully naked behind her, boosted up by the posture imposed on her by the high-heel pumps she wore. They were further beautified by the frame formed around them by the straps of the garter belt.
Black Widow went quickly to the washroom and opened the cabinet. She began to apply makeup to her face, starting with a light foundation, and then a rogue on her cheeks. She then lined her large green eyes thickly with a black eye pencil, before applying thick black mascara to her eyelashes, making them longer and thicker, which made her eyes look even larger.
Finally, she applied a glossy red lipstick to her lips, emphasizing her lips look like plump fruits ready for tasting.
Black Widow admired herself for a moment in the mirror. She suddenly felt horny. She spread her thighs and slid a hand down her front, into her panties, and began to massage herself in her clitoris. She turned and went into the bedroom again, moving towards the bed. She reached for the vodka bottle and took another swig. She was feeling beginning to feel a bit drunk now, as she walked towards the bed. She sat on it in her lingerie with her legs spread, her high-heeled feet planted on the floor. Her hand was still in her panties, and she massaged herself harder and harder. She threw her head back as she became more and more aroused. With her other hand, she took another drink from the vodka bottle. She could feel the wetness of her cunt on her fingers now, and she moaned softly as she felt herself cumming. She continued to rub herself until she felt the ecstasy of an orgasm hit her. Then, she withdrew her hand from inside her panties and released her hold on the vodka bottle, which fell with a thump on the floor before rolling away, spilling its content as it did so. She slumped back onto the bed, her legs still dangling over the side of the bed. Her red hair was splayed around her beautiful face as her head landed against the mattress. Then she went softly to sleep.