Angie Blaze

Hands grabbed the reporter and dragged her to her feet.

"Let's get you to the showers. You didn't touch any of that to your pussy, right?"

"No-o..." Lois coughed, spitting pollen as the figure pulled her away. While she wasn't quite sure what was going on, the reporter was glad for anything that got her safely away from Poison Ivy.

"Don't worry, I don't think she's actually figured out how to inseminate humans with strange plant hybrids yet," the voice was female, but with an odd, Mediterranean accent Lois couldn't place. Not quite Greek or Egyptian, but a bit exotic.

"Who are you?" Lois asked. "I don't recognize your voice."

"I'm Angie, Angie Blaze. I'm in charge around here."

Lois shut up, not sure if she had just made a terrible mistake. If Angie Blaze was in charge, would she know every new hire? Maybe. But if that was the case, why was she helping Lois Lane now?

If she is helping, Lois thought glumly. Nothing to do about it yet except play along.

The dirt and weed-smell of the grow-house gave way to cold, hard cement, the smell of fresh paint. Through another set of doors, where it changed into cool, hard tile; moist, warm air, the vague smell of disinfectant.

"Let's get you out of this costume. It'll all have to wash."

Lois, still unable to see and hand numb and covered with pollen, didn't resist as the knowing hands pulled and unzipped at her costume. She shrugged and stepped out of it when asked, and stood there in the altogether, wanting to wipe at her eyes and knowing that was probably a bad idea. The hand grabbed her arm again, guiding her down a step and...

Cold water sprayed out at the reporter, catching her right in the tits. Lois hissed, but it quickly warmed up. Hands touched her hips.

"Sit down. I'm going to wash this crap out of your hair."

The hands guided Lois to a stool. Something runny was poured on her head, and Lois smelled honeysuckle. Strong, knowing hands began to massage it into her scalp.

"You just relax now." Blaze said.

Lois could feel the hot water washing Ivy's sap and pollen away, the dirt from the grow-house floor. The heat felt good on her tired muscles, and she began to slump forward a little and lose herself in the scented suds as Angie washed her hair.

"You just relax and let the shampoo work, Lois," Angie said to the reporter, who was only half-listening.