Epilogue: Supply & Demand

The reporter moved through the dance floor. Now that Lois Lane had a taste for it, she could pick out the signs in the clubgoers...the coke nails and the hollow-eyed hunger in some of the young men and women around her. The dealers in their corners, passing favors just out of sight under tables. Security guards looking the wrong way.

I'm not here for that, the reporter told herself as she took the elevator downstairs. Information. Not ****.

Even thinking that, Lois could feel the edge of her need. It wasn't like hunger. It was like the fuzz in the morning before the first cup of coffee, except it filled her entire body. A long ache that she could feel in every joint, a slowness of mind and body that demanded a pick-me-up. Lois thought about the nose candy she'd gone through, knowing all the while that she'd been using too much, even while telling herself that she could stop anytime...and now it was gone, and she knew she wanted more.

The elevator ground to a halt, opened...and there was the black door. No cover charge this time, it opened as if expecting her, and Lois walked into darkness. Her eyes scanned the bar and settled on Angelica Blaze, who smiled in recognition.

"Sweetmeat," the dickgirl said, rising off the barstool to kiss the reporter's cheeks. "Back for another taste?"

"I need to ask you a few questions," the reporter asked. "About some women that...work for you."

"Of course. We'll talk back in the office."

Lois followed her back through the crowd. No one seemed to recognize her, which was good. She could feel her heart racing, and knew it wasn't just nervousness. The reporter was wondering what it would take to get the information she needed.

The office looked the same. Plush blue carpet, wood paneling, the mammoth slab of a desk, the leather couch, the marble-topped bar. Lois felt herself shaking a little, thinking about how she had been taken on that desk, bent over and fucked as she snorted coke. It had been her second taste...after snorting it off Angelica's cock in the bar. Her nose itched at the memory.

Blaze walked back behind the desk, and drew out an old-fashioned rolodex.

"Names?"

The reporter paused. She hadn't been expecting anything this straightforward.

"Jenny Dunlap. Diana Reynolds. Mara de la Cruz. Tonya Wong."

"Oh yes, my Wild Bunch," Blaze smiled as she flipped through the cards. She plucked out four manilla cards, and held them out to Lois. The reporter crossed the plush blue carpet and pulled them. The cards had names, copies of photo IDs, but also addresses, emails, phone numbers. "They're working a party tonight. You can find them tomorrow. Now as for that other business..."

"Other business?" Lois looked up, even as she slid the cards into a jacket pocket.

"Sweetmeat, you didn't come here just for information," the dickgirl smiled at her. "You came here for coke and cock. Pull off your pants."

Lois could feel her heart thunder in her chest. Her pulse echoed in her temples. She could just walk away. Should just walk away. Except that the dickgirl was already standing, pulling off her own pants. Had placed a small bag of white powder on the desk...and Lois felt herself kicking off her shoes, toes sinking into the carpet as she struggled out of her pants and panties. After all, she had got what she came for. What was wrong with an extra little treat? It would look suspicious if she didn't take it...

At least, that's what the reporter told herself.

Bent over the desk once again, Lois struggled to keep her hands from shaking as she used a razor blade to form a fine line, a little plastic straw already at her nostril. Blaze, rather than go in dry, had dropped to her knees and buried her face in the reporter's cunny, hands grasping and squeezing Lois Lane's ass roughly. Heat burned across the reporter's face at this unexpected stimulation, but she didn't dare complain, and could barely stifle her moans long enough to bring the straw down, one finger pinching her other nostril shut, then a heavy snort.

White powder disappeared. The familiar burning sensation in her nose and the back of her throat, which was quickly replaced with numbness. Lois knew that would soon fade, that the high would come, quick and bright, chasing away all the shadows of fatigue as her heart ramped up.

Behind her, Blaze ran her tongue over her ass, stood, and slipped her cock inside the reporter's hot cunt in what felt like a single well-practiced motion.

"Ah," Angelica said as she pushed forward, crushing Lois between her thighs and the desk. "Despite all the dicks you've taken, you're still tight."

The dickgirl began a steady pace, a rhythmic cunt-pounding that made Lois hang on, blissfully enjoying the first rush of her high, ignoring the coppery taste as she sniffed, knowing that her nose must be bleeding a little again. She closed her eyes, huffing, hands grasping the edge of the desk as Blaze picked up the pace.

I haven't been fucked like this enough, Lois decided. Just balls-out, no-strings-attached, dicked raw. No meddlesome emotions, no worries about long-term relationships or consequences, just a big dick and a wet pussy and hard ****...

Lois bent over and snorted another line. The extra dose seemed to make her body sing. Her pussy clenched, and she realized oddly that she couldn't feel her face, that her nose was numb, and she stared blankly ahead, grunting and moaning, pushing back with each thrust, clenching her pussy every time Angelica's cock was sliding out, sucking it deeper inside whenever it was thrusting in...she lost track of time. Lost track of herself.

Didn't even feel Blaze cumming.

Because the dickgirl didn't stop. Just kept on pushing right through it. Lois felt the odd lightness in her head, the thirst in her throat, the jitteriness in her muscles that told her she should have had a drink, just to cut the wiry energy of the cocaine a little. Behind her she could feel the cock soften a bit...and then Angelica was pushing rope, not slowing down at all...and the minutes ticked by and when Lois couldn't take it anymore she licked her finger, ran it carefully over the mirror, and brought the dusty digit up to her mouth to rub it on her gums...

...and by then Blaze was huffing hard, the cock was hardening again, and she was slapping Lois Lane's ass, leaving ugly red marks as her rigid prick began to furiously saw in and out of the reporter's hole, and Lois was shuddering and happy, blissful and pleasantly numb...and she didn't feel the dickgirl cum in her again, but she heard it, the grunting, the animal "Umph!" as those balls pressed up against her labia and blasted as deep and hard inside of the ****-out reporter as they could.

They stayed like there, basking in the afterglow, and Blaze sighed. She rubbed the reporter's sore ass, and Lois didn't need to look back to see that it was purple and red, pinched and bruised. The dickgirl pulled out, her wet dick dripping onto the carpet as she walked back aground to the other side of the desk.

For a moment, the reporter thought Blaze was going to have her suck the dirty dick, but instead the dickgirl reached down into a desk drawer and pulled out a tightly wrapped cellophane-encased brick of white powder...and the reporter felt her heart skip a beat as she realized she was staring at more cocaine than she had ever seen in her life.

"That was nice, sweetmeat. But you want more, don't you?"

The reporter swallowed, sniffed. She was still bent over the desk, and her attention was divided between the drop of cum hanging off the end of Blaze's dick and the kilo of cocaine that was within arm's reach on the desk.

"Yes," the **** addict said.

"So you need to do a little job for me to earn it."

Lois swallowed. She remembered her last "little job."

"You want me to fuck somebody?" It upset her how easily the words had come out. Almost hopeful. After all, she had already whored herself out once...more than once, really. Lois knew she should feel ashamed at how easily she had offered herself up. Except she didn't.

"No. I want you to deliver this package to an...associate in Metropolis."

The addict lifted herself up to stare Blaze in the eyes. A kilo was...more than just personal consumption. It was tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of dollars on the street. If Lois was caught with it...that was her life. If she took it home and snorted it...well, serious criminals would make the rest of her life short and painful. She'd heard of cartels down in Mexico that **** couriers to **** for just sampling the product.

"Supply and demand, sweetmeat," the dealer said to her new client. "You owe me. You want any more nose candy, you need to do little favors for me. Okay?"

Lois closed her eyes. She knew she should say no. It was one thing to use ****, another thing to carry them around the city. Hell, if she showed up in a police station and tried to turn it in for evidence...one tox screen would show the cocaine already in her system. One look at her apartment would show the coke mirror. She staggered to her feet, legs wobbly, jizz running down her thighs in thick streams.

Then again...maybe this can be a new story? I mean, she has to be getting the **** from somewhere. If I talk to Vice...my editor...maybe I can find her supplier. Spin this out. Get a story out of it. After all, I don't have to do the ****. Just enough to take the edge off, maybe. Wean myself off of it. Then, in a month or two...

Lois smiled.

"Sure. Where am I delivering it to?"

Blaze smiled back at her latest mule.