End: The Exit

The familiar sign of a fire door greeted Lois Lane. An exit from this place...a set of stairs that led up to the surface streets. Back to where things made sense. The reporter paused and considered it. Every orifice hurt. She was cold, filthy, and probably still high from Poison Ivy's ****-laced pussy juice. All of a sudden, the events of the night seemed to crash down on the reporter...or maybe she was coming down from the ****. All the aches and pains of the night filled her.

I know something's going on, Lois told herself. I know Poison Ivy is involved. Maybe I should just cut my losses and leave now. Call Batman. If the missing women are here, as I think they are, he'll have a better chance of finding them than I will.

It was a tough decision. It felt like quitting. A part of Lois wanted to continue on, find the women, find the truth behind all of this madness...but another, more mature and rational part of Lois told her that she'd been ****, sexually assaulted, and damn near killed a man in self-defense. At least one supervillain was involved, and Lois wasn't keen to meet Poison Ivy again...

...or rather, she was.

The reporter shook as she thought of the weird chemical bliss that had come over her, sucking on the plant-woman's slit. Even now, she felt a yearning for it, and she recognized the edges of a new, dangerous addiction. To go back into the brothel now meant risking not only her life, but of running into Poison Ivy again and falling into her clutches. Into becoming a whore in truth, instead of playing one while undercover.

Lois urged herself to move...and found it more difficult than she imagined. Like moving through deep water. Each step felt heavy. Her tongue ran over and over her teeth, wondering if she could still taste Ivy's pussy juice. The cunny more addictive than crack cocaine...and it was an effort beyond anything Lois had experienced to just put one foot in front of the other.

To open the door.

Climb those stairs.

Open another door.

A cool wind whipped across her naked pussy, and the ill-dressed reporter closed her arms over her chest. Looking back over the events of the night, she felt that she had narrowly escaped some terrible fate...but a part of her couldn't but imagine what would have happened, if she had made other choices.

Lois Lane was still thinking that as she walked out into the cold night, shivering with withdrawal, her night out over...although as far as the Daily Planet's greatest reporter was concerned, there was much unresolved. She vowed that she would be back...some night...and she could not stop from licking her lips at the thought.