Blaze's Office

They disengaged, Lois letting her lover pull back, and clambering onto unsteady legs. Their clothes were a bit the worse for wear...and Lois didn't even bother replacing her panties, just squeezing her legs back into her tight pants, going commando and letting her fresh-fucked puss press against the tight fabric.

Part of the reporter wondered if she had done the right thing, making such a promise. She had no idea who or what Angelica Blaze actually was—or what she was really capable of. Promises in fairy tales and fantasy tended to be very binding. Yet as she admired her lover from behind as she shimmied back into her clothing, Lois knew that she honestly did wish to continue their liaison.

Angelica wore a black one-piece dress that came to about mid-thigh; Lois wasn't sure how she normally handled her appendage but the shemale's hard-on made a notable bulge against the sheer material. She pouted, obviously frustrated at this turn of events. The reporter sidled up and handed her a small, folded black cloth.

"What's this?" Blaze brought it up to her nose to give them a sniff.

"My panties." Lois grinned. "I've got a piece of you with me, so...I think you should have a piece of me with you."

They held hands as Angelica guided them out of the bathroom, back into the club; they skirted the noisy dance floor and waltzed past the security as they headed through the door near the bar to the back rooms—Lois blinked as the light and decor changed, from trashy club to faded luxury. Blaze led her to what might have been an executive's office once: a heavy oak desk sporting a closed laptop, an old leather loveseat, plush carpet that was once a rich blue gone a faded but regal grey, and a marble-topped bar full of crystal glass and handsome bottles.

The shemale led Lois to the couch, then turned to mix the drinks. And she did mix them: a dash of bitters and a cupful of ice, the liquor poured with a careful but generous measure, shaken industriously... As a reporter Lois had seen more than a few bartenders at work, and few had the familiar, comfortable skill that went into the old cocktail. Blaze turned around with two pink gins in matching glasses.

Lois took hers gratefully. They clinked a silent toast, and then sipped, eyeing each other all the while.

"This is good," Lois told her host, realizing rather abruptly that she had drained the glass rather quickly, while Angelica's was still half-full. The shemale nodded at the compliment.

"Another?" Blaze asked, and at Lois' own nod took the glass and returned to the bar.

The reporter admired the figure of the shemale from behind. The slim, muscular ass and back...not a wasted ounce of flesh, but not skeleton like some model. A part of her imagined the cock pressing against her dress, and the conversation they hadn't finished.

"Who are you, Angelica Blaze?" Lois wondered aloud. "Did you really bring me here just to knock me up?"