Ask Questions

Think, Lane, Lois told herself. Treat it like an interview! Take charge!

"Where are we?" The reporter asked.

"A prison." Circe glowered. "And not a bad one," she grudgingly admitted. "The walls absorb magic."

"How did you get caught?" Lois asked. "I mean no offense, but you're supposed to be the most powerful sorceress...ever."

The purple-haired woman smiled in quiet vanity. "You've heard of donkey shows? Down in Tijuana?"

"Yesss..." Lois asked, not sure where this was going, but aware she was losing control of the interview.

"We had something similar in ancient Greece, except with centaurs. It was...quite a sight. I heard through my contacts that such a spectacle was going to be performed here and...well, my curiosity got the better of me, and I walked into a trap." She gave a wan smile and a shrug. "You?"

"The same, only without the centaurs. Four women had gone missing, this club was the common denominator."

"Ah," Circe said, in tones of fading interest. "In any case, what is your name?"

"Lois Lane," she replied automatically. "A reporter for the Daily Planet."

The light surrounding Circe's hand went out. The room plunged instantly into darkness.

"Lois," the woman's voice was throaty and seductive. The reporter felt a hand press on her breast, through her shirt and bra. It lay there, gently, just feeling the pulse of her heart quickening. This close, Lois could smell the sorceress' scent...musky, like a fine wine.

"The Fates have seen fit to place us here. We seem to be stuck together for some time. Would you like to have sex?"