* J *

Part Fourteen: Chapter 90: Malpractice??

Dr. Harleen Quinzel's POV

That day that I kissed the Joker I was completely dazed. I couldn't pay attention in any of the sessions with the other patients. Even they could tell I was distracted. I couldn't believe that I kissed tha Joker. Beyond his scary persona to Gotham, he was still my patient. I'm his doctor. Kissing him was so unprofessional. It was a potential reason to be fired. It was a law suit waiting to happen. I could lose my license to practice.

I worked so hard to get here. I had to work to pay for the things my scholarship didn't cover. I'm not really proud of the job I did. But I was desperate. I couldn't work multiple minimum wage jobs. I didn't have time with school, studying, and having to sleep at some point. So I took a job as a stripper. I hated it. I felt so degraded. But I put on a show. I made it look as though I loved my job. And I was good at it. I could pay my rent, water, gas, phone, internet, cable, food, car note, and miscilanious expenses in a single night. I made so much that I started making payments on a house. And to tell you the truth, now I'm barely making ends meet. All that money to get a degree because you make more money with a college education. After the money I made stripping, my paychecks now were insulting.

I wonder how rich the Joker is? I know he owns several businesses. From the pictures I've seen of him on the internet, he dressed in designer clothes. His hair was always neatly slicked back. His posture was always arrow strait. He always looks like he's going somewhere formal. And he is very formal. You can hear it in the educated way he talked. His IQ is beyond genius. I've barely scratched the surface with him. His mind has to be amazingly deep.

And yes, I found him attractive. I can't explain why really. He was just so magnetic. He seemed so strong and confident. I could see why he had so much power. I could see why people feared him. He did carry this intimidating presence with him. I have to keep reminding myself that he's a criminal. He has killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people. But the man I saw every day was calm, alert, friendly, curious, and a little flirty.

I couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. It was like I had no control. My brain was screaming no, but my body cried out yes. His lips were surprisingly soft. He wasn't a sloppy kisser, the kind whose spit fills your mouth and saturated your face. He wasn't the kind of kisser that doesn't really know what to do with their tongue, so they wiggle it awkwardly. His kiss was passionate. It was tender and romantic. It was perfect. And when I looked into his eyes I didn't see a killer. I saw a lover.

A knock at my door instantly brought a smile to my face. It was time for Mistah J's session. I eagerly open my door. The guards bring him in and his eyes instantly lock with mine. His face is blank and I haven't a clue what he might be thinking. The guards leave and I sit across from him. I smile timidly at him. He doesn't smile back. His mouth slightly parts and his eyes stare at my lips.

"Mornin' Mistah J," I say and look away.

"Doc-torrr," he purred, "Aren't you forgetting something?" He wiggled in his straight jacket.

"Oh yeah, of course," I say and quickly get up.

I cross over to him and pull the key from my pocket and unlock the straight jacket. Then I unbuckle the buckles. Normally they left a few undone. But for some reason, he was extra restrained today. He shifts and figits and it's soon on the floor. I start to go back to my seat but I feel him take my hand. I stop and turn to look at him. He stands up and approaches me closely. He raises my hand he's holding. He brings it to his mouth and turns it over and places a tender kiss on my wrist. An electric jolt shot through me.