Epilogue: Zatanna Zatara Is Knocked Up

No magic. That was the key to Lois Lane's plot against Zatanna Zatara. As one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world, the magician would quickly have realized any spell or enchantment that sought to ensnare her. Yet what woman could know that the hormonal birth control pills she had been buying and using regularly had been carefully replaced with fertility **** made up to look exactly like the pills she had been using? Who in Las Vegas could turn down being "comped" an upgrade to their room—and other benefits...

"We're so sorry for the problem with the pipe bursting in your bathroom," the concierge had told the magician. "So we'd like to offer you the penthouse. For free, of course. Please enjoy your stay for the duration."

Zatanna had smiled and accepted the key card. The show had gone well, the first night of her unexpected and lucrative nine-month residency, and the magician was that strange combination of tired and wired that she got after a good show. The audience had loved her...and as Zatanna took the long elevator ride up to the penthouse, she reflected that all she wanted was a glass of wine, a bite to eat, and a long, hot bath...

The penthouse was amazing, of course. Paintings which should have adorned a museum hung up, all originals. Pink and white Italian marble. Management had a cart with a bucket of ice, champagne, and a bowl of fresh strawberries and cream waiting for her. The magician's bags were waiting in the lobby, sent up from her old room. It was a sight that Zatanna had almost half-expected...

What she had not expected was John Constantine, naked and and smoking on a real bear-skin rug before a fireplace, reading her diary.

She recognized his ass first; the green tattoo of a tree whose origin he would never tell her about. Despite his lack of regular exercise, he was relatively thin and fit, the body marked here and there with interesting scars, from cultist's daggers and hellfire, jealous husbands and irate lovers. Zatanna pointedly didn't even look at him as she went straight for the champagne. The cork popped with a satisfying *pop*, and the slightly yeasty smell filled her nostrils as she poured a generous dollop into a real crystal champagne flute.

"Hey love," Constantine said, in his Scouse accent. "How was the show?"

Zatanna ignored him and sipped the champagne, then reached out and grabbed a strawberry, drew it through the cream, and popped it into her mouth. Perfect, sweet, creamy. She chewed, sipped, and then just tossed her head back and emptied the glass.

"What are you doing here, John?" She asked.

He turned onto his side...and there it was, that ridiculous cock. Seven inches when hard, and she well-remembered every one of them, from the time when they had been together. He could have gone into porn with that dick, and for all she knew he had.

"Work, same as you," he reached down and scratched his balls. She noted he had shaved his sack, a practice which he always insisted was not for vanity, but for purely practical reasons of hygiene. The sorceress imagined he just liked to show off. Her fingers dipped back into the strawberries. "Been a nasty run of possessions in L.A. lately. Private Christian charity has asked me to look into the matter. Nice retainer, plus daily stipend. Couldn't say no."

"That's why you're in Vegas," Zatanna said. "But why are you here?"

His blue eyes met hers. Oh, she knew they were dangerous, those eyes. Most people could lie to you in words, but John Constantine was the only man she had ever met who had the child's ability to look perfectly innocent with his eyes, so that you stared at him and even knowing what a rotten bastard he was, you wanted to believe he meant ever word.

"I missed you."

Zatanna's remark was cut off by a knock at the door. John grinned like a naughty boy, breaking the illusion.

"Ordered dinner. Hope you don't mind?"

The witch shrugged in defeat and opened the door.

Lobster and melted butter, perfectly steamed brown rice and Chinese vegetables, oysters on the half shell...they ate in the dining room, and despite the fact that the table was big enough to entertain a dinner party of eight or ten with ease, John insisted on sitting right next to her...and refused to put on his pants.

"Laundry," was all he would say, as he slurped an oyster.

It was all just so like him...to show up out of the blue, to impose himself on her life...and maybe it was how excited Zatanna was over the residency, or the ****, or the MDMA that had been slipped into the cream with the strawberries, but she felt a strange and familiar warmth flood her body. Her eyes kept darting down toward John's cock...soft and pale between his legs...and as she grew warmer, Zatanna took off her jacket...and then her shirt...and at the sight of the sorceress in just her bustier, the cock began to twitch to life...

After dinner, they left the plates on the table for the maids. John's hand brushed her cheek.

"You look tired, love," he said softly. "Big night, aye? Best to get to bed."

Zatanna licked her lips. She was a grown woman, and all thoughts of a hot bath and an early night had fled. Her hand stole over his hairy thighs.

"You remember that trick with your tongue you showed me in Casablanca?" she said.

"Never forget it," John said.

"Show me."

The bed was big enough for an orgy. The whole of Vegas was lit up through the window...the city had put on her best for them that night. The sky was clear, and the moon was dark, so it was only a city of light beneath an endless expanse of sky, stretching out to desert...and Zatanna was on her back as John Constantine's tongue roamed and twirled. Her left hand dug through the free offerings in the top drawer of the side table...a small golden vibrator, bottles of flavored and unflavored lube, and a three-pack of real skin condoms.

A part of her hoped it would be enough. A part of her hoped it wouldn't.

He straddled her chest, cock hard as she fumbled to press the first condom on. It stretched tight over the rigid prick, and Zatanna found herself panting and eager. She hadn't had any male company in a long time...and as a lover, John Constantine was better than good. He was like an old friend coming over for a visit. They knew each other's bodies so well...and he let his covered cock slide down the length of her body, between her breasts, all the way to where Zatanna opened her thighs.

"You're very dangerous, John Constantine," she said in a moment of terrible awareness, as he rubbed the head of his cock against her clit. Her stomach seemed to flutter, her heavy breasts heaved. "Maybe I should use a spell..."

Constantine drove himself into her in one smooth movement. His muscled chest pressed into hers, the soft hair of his stomach pressed against her own toned abdomen. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she tasted him...nicotine and ****, fish and strawberries, bitter and sweet all mixed together like the promise of every sin she could name and a few she couldn't...the kiss tasted of him, and any spell she had in mind was wiped away as the holes poked in the tip of the condom caused it to split, just a little, and John Constantine and Zatanna made love for the first time in ages...

...and not for the last time.

Business kept John Constantine in town for week after week. The hotel staff dutifully replaced the used condoms with others, each sabotaged in the same way. Zatanna's pills encouraged ovulation and conception. A bottle of champagne and cream awaited her after every successful show, laced with subtle **** to lower inhibitions.

The toilets in the penthouse suite were next-generation smart toilets. Zatanna's exploration of their features had been limited to playing with the built-in bidet, but the instructions were all in Japanese. She had no idea that they could run pregnancy tests...or that the data was fed directly to the Black Grail Fertility Clinic which had underwritten her Las Vegas residency, the room service, and, through a front, John Constantine's exorcist-for-hire working-vacation.

Lois Lane smiled as she got the results. She carefully crossed Zatanna off of her list. By the time the magician's nine-month residency was over, the sorceress would be about ready to deliver...and Lois was already moving forward with plans regarding her next target.