A Man, I Guess...

The moment the words came out of Lois Lane's mouth, she regretted it. She wasn't gay—was barely bi-curious—but the idea of having sex with some strange man right now was disconcerting.

"You don't sound too sure about it," Maria said, sliding her hand onto the reporter's knee.

"I'm not," Lois said, hoping honesty about her discomfort would help her talk herself out of this situation. "I normally prefer taking cock, but I just don't feel like...you know, some dude I don't know just pumping me for oil tonight."

Maria gave Lois a curious smile. "What if you could get a dick and it wasn't just some smelly guy? I have a friend who is...intersex, sort of. True hermaphrodite. Cock and cunt. And they both work!"

Lois Lane blinked. She'd been expecting maybe someone transgender, but someone with both functional organs sounded like something out of fantasy. "Seriously? I mean, that's rare, isn't it?"

"One in a billion or something," Maria said. "Why don't we just go have a drink with her? You don't have to commit to anything. If you two hit it off, then, well..."

She licked her lips and her hand slid a little further up the reporter's thigh. Lois had no doubts about which way Maria swung.

Still, if it gets me deeper into the building, this might be worth it, Lois thought. And I can still say no.

So she nodded...and Maria took Lois by the hand and ld her deeper into the building. Down stairs and through corridors of abandoned offices. They found who Maria was looking for in a kind of break room. Black leather couches along three walls, a private bar along the fourth. It was cleaner than the rest of the club, except for the graffiti sprayed on the wall...and something about that made Lois dizzy to look that, the red and black figures shifting in her vision.

The figure at the bar was mixing a drink. She was tall, taller than Lois, a black sarong tied around her waist, a black cloth tied across her small breasts as a kind of bra. Dark hair spilled down to the small of her back, and she was built like a marathon runner—slim and lanky, almost emaciated. Lois could see the muscles beneath the skin, the bones of her ribs as she turned...and then she saw the dark eyes, the odd skull like the bust of Nefertiti, the generous mouth in its Mona Lisa smile—and the bulge between her legs, visible through the semi-translucent black sarong. The unmistakable shape of a cock.

"Angelica," Maria said. "I'd like you to meet my friend..."