Epilogue: A Hot Date

Sirens approached. Lois Lane stared up from the street at the black smoke and flames that billowed from what had been her apartment. Beside her, Blaze gave out a little sigh.

"Okay. This date did not go exactly as planned."

Six Hours Earlier

The kevlar underwear had been one of those gag gifts from her sister. Lois modeled it in the full-length mirror. It was a bit heavy—there were armored plates in the cup and crotch—but the dark grey material offered a little bit more protection. Lois slid on a black sleeveless t-shirt and urban camouflage pants, laced up steel-toed boots. Her web belt and harness included a canteen, her smartphone in a reinforced pouch, and a holster for her KA-BAR. The leather jacket on top made it more appropriate for the street...and Lois tied her hair back into a ponytail and threaded it through the back of her cap. She felt ready for almost anything.

The door rang, and Lois felt her heart race...but she made herself walk slowly to answer it, one hand on the hilt of her knife. A glimpse through the peephole, and then she opened the door...

Blaze was dressed in some kind of fantasy princess outfit. The reporter raised an eyebrow as she took in the almost floor-length loincloth that left her pale legs bare, the belt of metal discs with leering demonic faces across her hips, the twin strips of orange fabric that covered her breasts, leaving her stomach and sides exposed, the little metal pauldrons on her shoulders, the tiara that kept the black mane of hair out of her face.

"Ready to go?" The demon said. Even in her human form, the demon was tall, lithe, athletic. She moved with the ease of a belly-dancer...and as she looked the reporter up and down, the demon instinctively thrust her hips forward, making Lois blush as she imagined the cock that was tucked away beneath the flowing fabric.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Lois said. "Where are we going, anyway?"

Blaze offered her hand. "I was thinking I'd make you dinner. But first, we have to gather the ingredients..."

Curious as a cat, Lois reached out and took her hand.

...they followed the pig through the French forest, the little rotund porker snuffling at the ground. Suddenly, the great hairy critter lunged forward toward the root of the tree. Blaze grabbed at its collar.

"Quick! Grab it before she eats it!"

Lois Lane dug through the rich brown-black soil with her hands. Fingers closed on a hard, irregular lump...and she pulled the dark mass out into the light.

In the cellar, the old woman sighed as she poured a dribble of the golden wine into glasses.

"During the war, we boarded up the cellar," the grey-haired old woman held the glass up to the light, swirling it gently. "Papa, he always knew that it was meant to be drunk. But those men, he determined, would never taste a drop. Not from our grapes."

They sniffed, drank. To Lois, it was like plums and hard cider, subtle and delicate, and the bare mouthful on her tongue and trickling down to let a warmth blossom in her belly wanted more.

She eyed the long rows of bottles in the dark cellar, and her hand reached out to one covered by spiderwebs...

On her knees, sweating, doing her best not to grin as she pulled up a peck of strawberries. Around her, the Mexican fieldhands joked and laughed in Spanish. They were quicker and surer than Lois. A field away, the reporter could see Angie, in her borrowed sunhat and gloves, pulling up other vegetables. The hot sun beat down, and Lois hid a little smile as she bent down to her work.

The same sun beat down, hotter and brighter than before, out on a boat down by the Florida Keys. Gulls screamed overhead. LoIs felt the rod pull in her hands, and she struggled. Angelica came up behind her, gripping the reporter's arms in her own.

The reporter was strangely aware of the body pressed up against hers, but her focus was on the struggle...she could see the great fish now as she reeled it in...fighting her every step of the way...and she gave a gasp of excitement as together they pulled the flapping silver shape free of the briny deep...

"Knead the dough," the old woman said, with a smile. She had forearms nearly as big as the reporter's thighs, and a slight not-quite-German accent. "Like a lover, ja? Imagine they are beneath you, really pound it out."

Lois snorted...and glanced over at Blaze, who was dutifully working the butter churn. The hard part of that task was less the strength and endurance it demanded, than Blaze's loin-cloth, which kept trying to move out of place, threatening to flash the old woman.

On the mountain trail, they had stopped by a little stream, and Lois saw the wasabi growing in the marshy ground. Lois Lane's stomach rumbled. Angie held the bag as the reporter pulled the plant up by the roots. As the demon tied them up, Lois lifted her fingers to her nose and breathed in the earthy, spicy scent...and then glanced over to see Blaze's ass, the loincloth giving her a wedgy, and Lois bit her lips in sudden contemplation of those round, muscular buttocks.

Back at her apartment, Blaze chopped and minced, pulled fresh-cleaned fish off ice and laid it in a cast iron pan with fresh-churned butter and a sprinkle of shaved truffle. The reporter set the table, the smell of the fresh-baked bread driving her wild. It was amazing what went into what was really a very simple meal...

Glasses clinked together, a single candle burning between them.

"You know," Lois said. "You don't have to be in your human form. When we're alone."

The demon nodded...and Lois watched as the skin deepened to blood red, the dark eyes faded until they were pure white, almost glowing from within with their own light, and the horns emerged into view—not growing from her skull, but as if they had always been there, waiting to be seen.

They ate mostly in silence, and Lois thought back to the day..zipping from one part of the globe to the next, meeting people, smiling, collecting the ingredients for this simple little feast...and she thought too that if this was anyone else other than Balze, she would be thinking about afterward, as they polished off the bottle of wine, and how she would invite them into the bedroom.

She didn't smell the smoke until the moment after the alarm went off. Then the woosh of flame from the kitchen. Instinctively, Blaze reached out to grab her hand...and the next moment they were standing outside on the sidewalk, looking up.

Now

"...fire started in your neighbor's apartment, when they pierced the gas line," the fire marshal said. "We're sorry to say that it looks like a total loss."

Lois Lane nodded dumbly. She held a box with all that was left of her material goods. A slightly smoke-damaged Pulitzer prize. A picture of her mother and sister. The Penetrator. Her first edition of In Cold Blood. The communicator Superman had given her for emergencies. That ugly, gravid fertility idol.

Blaze hovered near her, and Lois could almost feel the demon's agitation and worry. The dickgirl had done everything she could to give Lois a nice date, and now this.

"Hey, Angie?" Lois said. "You want to go get a hotel?"

Then, just because she wanted there to be no illusions about things.

"You're still not my girlfriend, but...I could really use a hard, pounding fuck right now."

Blaze's eyes widened. "I could give you a hard, pounding fuck."

Lois sighed and turned away from the blaze overhead to the one by her side.

"Yes, you can."

Which is how, in the early evening, as the best meal she'd had in a long time settled into her stomach, Lois found herself face down on the mattress of a nice hotel as a hard, swollen scarlet cockhead rubbed up against her damp slit...and then pushed slowly inside. Lois Lane sighed, trying to release the tension in her back and shoulders as Blaze began a slow, steady pace.

It wasn't until a long time later that Lois thought to ask about condoms.