"Universal probe entering Gotham City."

  Velvet drapes muffled the sounds of horse hooves and carriage wheels outside, casting a twilight glow across the drawing room. Adeline St. James, wrapped in soft dove-grey satin, sat with her ankles crossed as she observed the other women. She was still adjusting to the rhythm of Gotham's upper crust.

  The *Court of Owls*, they called it—a private club of refined women whose husbands were the real muscle of the city: judges, bankers, shipping magnates. Yet here, in this parlor tucked behind stained gss and stone, it was the wives who ruled.

  Lady Meredith Vale, elegant in a navy corset with matching ce gloves, sipped her tea with a knowing smile. "Tell me, Adeline," she said, "have you visited Dr. Victor Fries yet?"

  Adeline blinked. "I haven't. Who is he?"

  Laughter sounded among the women like birds. One of them, Eugenia Carrington, leaned in. "Darling, he's a medical man. Very modern. Very discreet."

  Meredith arched a brow. "He specializes in feminine troubles… Hysteria, you understand."

  Adeline's cheeks pinked. Of course she knew the term. The polite bel for all the tension, restlessness, and want that few men understood. "Oh. I see."

  "Quite handsome, too," Eugenia added, plucking a grape from a silver bowl. "Early thirties. Eyes like frost. And his hands…" She left the sentence unfinished, and the room bloomed with quiet ughter.

  Meredith passed Adeline a slip of cream-colored parchment. An address written in fine bck ink. "You should check him out. Tell him you're from the Court. He'll know what to do."

  The next afternoon, Adeline arrived at a brick townhouse nestled between a watchmaker and a flower shop. A brass pcard read: *Dr. Victor Fries, Private Consultation*. The door opened with a soft chime.

  Inside, the air was sterile but warm. A nurse took her cloak and gloves. Soon, a tall figure appeared from behind a paneled door—Dr. Victor Fries himself. He was clean-shaven, ice-pale, with gcial blue eyes and dark blond hair slicked neatly back. He bowed slightly.

  "Mrs. St. James. Please—this way."

  She followed him into a room lined with bookcases and humming instruments. He gestured to a chair. "What brings you to me today?"

  Adeline folded her hands. "I've been feeling... tense. Anxious. I was told by the Court you treat women suffering from... hysteria."

  Dr. Fries nodded, his expression gentle and warm. "Yes. I have something that may help. Would you prefer mechanical assistance or the traditional method?"

  "What do you mean by mechanical?" she asked.

  He gestured to a padded table with brass fixtures and soft restraints. Beneath it, gears hummed faintly. "The test invention. A vibration device is integrated into the table. It stimutes... nerve clusters. Effective and clinical."

  Adeline tilted her head, curious, then smiled softly. "I think I would prefer the old-fashioned way. That device seems so impersonal."

  His eyes held hers. "I understand, madam. Some patients prefer the hands-on approach. I am happy to assist—if that is your wish."

  She nodded once. "Yes. I'd like that."

  Dr. Victor Fries assisted Adeline onto the examination table, his cool hands steady and reassuring. She was already naked, having undressed in the privacy of the anteroom, her cheeks flushed with anticipation and a hint of embarrassment.

  He began by running his hands over her body, his touch clinical yet gentle, as if he were sculpting her with his fingers. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, which hardened at his touch. He leaned in, his breath warm on her ear as he whispered, "Let's help you find your release, Mrs. St. James."

  He moved his hands down her body, tracing the curve of her waist, the fre of her hips, before settling between her thighs. He spread her legs, his fingers finding her clit, circling it with a steady, expert rhythm. Adeline gasped, her hips arching off the table as pleasure coursed through her.

  Dr. Fries slipped a finger inside her, then another, his pace increasing as he curled them upward, finding that sensitive spot deep within her. His thumb continued its steady, maddening rhythm on her clit, his fingers filling her, stretching her, driving her closer to the edge.

  Adeline's breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as she teetered on the precipice. Her back arched, her body tensing as the pleasure built within her. "Oh God, yes!" she cried out, her voice filled with need and desperation.

  Dr. Fries increased the pace of his fingers, his touch firm and unyielding, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, Adeline," he growled, his voice low and commanding.

  With a final cry, Adeline's body convulsed, her inner muscles clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She arched her back, her body trembling as she rode out her orgasm. "Yes, yes, yes!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the room.

  As the st tremors subsided, Adeline y boneless on the table, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Dr. Fries gently removed his fingers, his touch soft and soothing as he helped her sit up.

  "Thank you, Doctor," she said, rising. "I feel... remarkably better."

  He smiled faintly. "Anytime, madam. It is my duty to serve Gotham's finest women, and especially the Court of Owls."

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek—a gesture she hadn't pnned. Then, smoothing her skirts, she stepped into the hallway.

  Another woman sat in the waiting room, gloved and veiled—Eugenia Carrington.

  "Well?" Eugenia asked.

  Adeline smiled, touching the edge of her hat. "It went quite well."

  Eugenia winked. "I told you. My husband's always off pying banker... It's nice to have a man around who knows what a woman actually needs."

  As Adeline descended the steps into the crisp Gotham afternoon, she felt lighter, more grounded. The city might be run by the men, but the true power of Gotham was in the Court of Owls.