Chapter 12 by Zeebop

How Much Does Lois Drink?

Chug The Bottle

Lois Lane stared at the six shots on the bar.

The full pistol? To hell with that. She thought, hearing the crowd of women and dickgirls get worked up.

The reporter's hand shot out and grabbed the mostly-full bottle of tequila. Old reflexes from her college days came back into play as she raised the bottle to her lips, tilted her head back and drank.

Fast, so that you didn't taste it, didn't feel the burn of it sliding down your throat. Keep the bottle at an angle, let the air flow out of it, keep the pour even and steady, so that you could swallow swallow swallow without thinking, without ****. If you choked once, it was over. Your mouth would fill, you couldn't breathe, and you'd sputter. So none of that. Just tip it back and let the crowd go into awed silence as you shotgun the bottle of liquor.

Her belly filled, cold and harsh and burning, acid mixing with the ****. Lois couldn't even tell if it was good shit or cheap, couldn't really taste it, tongue already gone numb. She could feel the glass clink against her teeth, the too-full feeling her in stomach as it bloated with booze, the stream died down to a trickle.

Lois Lane tilted her head all the way back lifting the empty bottle over her mouth so that her splayed tongue could catch the last drop.

Then she set it down hard on the bar and smiled, glassy-eyed and triumphant. A ragged cheer rose from the assembled crowd, hands on her shoulders and arms, and the music was playing louder and faster than before. The reporter felt herself being half-carried, half-guided to the dance floor, and the friends she had come in with were nowhere to be seen. Lois didn't know the song, but everyone around her did. She tried to make out the words...

"Show me some skin!" The female lead singer screamed, and around in the club people started taking off their shirts...