Angelica

Lois blinked at the name. The woman had a strange accent—a bit Mediterranean. The reporter coughed, bringing up grey globs of...well, probably not phlegm. She wondered how long she would be hacking it up. Blearily, she looked around.

It looked like a natural cavern. Stalagmites and stalactites, the half-melted look of stone that had been hollowed out over time by water. A trail of spunk led from where Lois lay to a small white stream that disgorged from a hole in the nearest rock wall, and continued in a path out of sight.

The only light source was a pale glowstick held by Angelica, and Lois blinked against the gloom and studied her.

Young, dressed like she was headed for a rave—a too-tight ripped black t-shirt that stretched across her generous breasts and bared her midriff. No bra that Lois could see. Tight jean-shorts, cut off at the top of the thighs, leading into fishnet, and handsome little black boots. A string of unbroken glowsticks dangled from her neck, and Lois was glad of that...it looked to be the only light they had. Her lips were smeared with cum from Lois' lips.

"Where...are...we?" Lois said between coughs.

"Hell," Angelica said, biting her lower lip. "I think we're dead."

Then Lois saw how wide Angelica's pupils were, big black saucers. Lois was trapped in some sort of cavern next to a river of jizz...and her mouth-to-mouth savior was high as a fucking kite.