End: Lois Will Take A Raincheck

"I will hold you to that," the sorceress said with a smirk. She leaned down, one hand against Lois Lane's jawline to draw the reporter into a final kiss. Their lips met—warm and soft, and Lois found herself opening her mouth, just a little, so that their tongues could touch. Yet before it could become anything else, Circe pulled away.

"A parting gift...imagine how you wish to be dressed."

Lois immediately saw herself as she had been when she stared into the mirror at the start of the evening...and in a flash of green light, she was clothed. The reporter looked down and saw the tight red pants hugging her legs, the white cotton t-shirt, her jacket...even with her phone and wallet in the pocket!

Yet she could also see that the skin on her hands and chest was still dark with tan; her pierced nipples pressed against her bra, not visible but definitely there, and Lois knew that her other souvenirs from this evening—the piercings, the tattoos, the bra above her pussy were there as well.

"Until we meet again, Lois Lane," Circe said...and the older woman vanished, to leave Lois alone on the beach.

Gathering herself together, the reporter stood and walked through the door she had come in...and blinked to find herself back in the hallway. Idly, she pulled out her phone and checked the time. Hours had passed. It was a few minutes after 4 AM.

Lois stalked through the silent halls...and almost collided with an exhausted woman dressed in a very revealing version of a Catwoman outfit, blonde hair hanging out the back of the mask.

"Sorry," the woman said, sounding tired. Beneath the makeup, Lois noted that she was younger than she looked...and the accent was Metropolitan, not Gothamite. "It's been a long night."

There was something familiar about her. A name came to Lois's mind.

"Diana Reynolds?"

The blonde Catwoman blinked. "I...they call me Dee here."

"Dee," Lois said. "I'm Lois Lane, a reporter for the Daily Planet. I've been looking for you..."

They spoke quietly, quickly. "Dee" led the reporter to the break room, where several of the other sex workers were resting in various states of undress, some of them with ice packs on their genitals. Most of them looked the worse for wear. Two were in a corner, rubber tubing tied tight about their arms, to shoot up.

In half an hour, Lois had enough for her article.

In an hour, she had convinced half a dozen of the women to leave with her.

By dawn, Superman and the police were descending on the brothel.

Sirens woke many people in Metropolis...and many women, once lost, took a step back toward their old lives, or to new ones. Lois Lane, exhausted but content, came home with weary legs, and slipped out of her heels. Peeled off her jacket and laid it on the back of a kitchen chair, took off her shirt...and stopped, to look at herself in the bathroom mirror.

The tan would fade, in time. Lois could tell anyone that asked that it had been part of her disguise to get into the club. The rings that pierced her nipples...Lois tugged at them gently, and saw the little pink nubs grow erect. Traced a finger over the fine black tattoos. A little smile crept onto her face.

Well, she had a little more than memories to remember this night out. Nothing wrong with that.