Drunken Makeout

Maria smiled, awkwardly, and tried to gently fend off Lois' advances. "It's the wine, honey," she said. "You don't know what you're doing."

Lois grabbed Maria's hand, and guided it down to the reporter's own pussy. She held the woman's hand there, where she could feel the heat that seemed to radiate from the genitals, and the wet drops the fell from her lips. "Does this feel like I don't know what I'm doing?" She said.

Before Maria could react, Lois let go of her hand, and grabbed her face with both hands. She drew the barmaid's face to hers, and tilted her head, mouth open. Their lips locked with a crash, and they breathed together for the moment—Lois' hot exhalation becoming Maria's inhalation, and vice versa. Tongues wrestled together, and Lois realized she had closed her eyes. Hands fumbled with what remained of their clothing, as the kiss broke into gasps, and they both opened their eyes.

Lois cupped a hand beneath Maria's panties. Felt the barmaid's own crotch, smooth and just beginning to get wet. "I want this." The barmaid nodded...and they went down onto the floor.

Maria pulled up her skirt, inverted it over her stomach, then laid down on her side, one leg raised. The stall was so cramped, she was basically hugging the toilet. Lois, still pantsless, got down on all fours and gently crab-walked toward the barmaid. Fidgety and feverish, horny and eager, the two carefully maneuvered until their lower lips kissed, Lois' hairy crotch placed directly against Maria's own...and scissored like that, they began to grind against each other.

Downstairs

"Dammit, what is taking her?" Lex cursed. The cameras in the bathroom couldn't make out what was happening, though he knew neither Maria or Lois Lane had left. He switched channels on the internal comms. "Mercy, something is wrong. Get Miss Lane to the next stage of the proceedings." He settled back in his chair.