Food & Booze

Wang's was one of Metropolis's better-kept secrets. His parents had come to Metropolis in the 1920s, and he had spent his entire life bringing cousins over from China, one at a time. More than a few of them worked at his restaurant bussing tables or delivering food while studying at Metropolis University, and most of his grandchildren were doctorates. He could have retired a decade ago...but the wrinkled face broke into a familiar smile as he saw Lois Lane.

They got one of the back tables, out on the patio overlooking the bay. Lois never ordered; the menu was in Chinese, and Wang had a habit of knowing exactly what she needed. He smiled graciously at Angelica Blaze, not even hesitating. That was one of the things Lois liked about Wang: anyone was welcome.

"多謝," Angelica said, after he had guided them to the table, set down a plain white unmarked bottle and two small cups...and his smile grew a little wider, the eyes twinkling as he went away.

"You speak Chinese?" Lois asked.

"Hong Kong Cantonese. Not Mandarin." Blaze said as she poured the liquor—kaoliang, Chinese sorghum wine—and the dickgirl raised her cup in a toast. "What shall we drink to? To new friends? New experiences?"

Lois raised her own glass and clinked it gently. "To night," she said, enigmatically, with a smile that was more than half a promise.

They drank. The liquor burned going down their throats, sweet and somehow with a slightly spicy aftertaste. Lois made a note not to drink too much. She wanted to keep her mind clear...and, in the back of her brain, Lois Lane wondered if after their sexual escapades earlier tonight she might not actually get pregnant tonight. It was always a possibility, with unprotected sex, after all. Wouldn't do to drink too heavily, just in case.

In the silence, the water lapped at the bay.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Angelica asked. She pushed a slim coin forward—not a copper penny, but a steel penny, a genuine antique from the American Civil War. Lois picked it up and looked at it.

"Who are you?" Lois said, turning to look at her companion. She could still picture those breasts beneath the shirt, the cock tucked into those cramped pants. "That's what dates are for, after all. Getting to know each other."

The dickgirl took a breath.

"I was...born in prison. My father wasn't around. Mom had seduced him and conceived my brother and I. It was hard, growing up. I made my way, how I had to. Every now and then I would get out...usually with some scheme to get ahead, but I always ended up back there, where I'd come from. I never really escaped, I think. Even now, I know it's waiting for me. So...I have what fun I can, while I can."

She gave a sad smile. Poured herself another cup. Offered it to Lois, but the reporter shook her head.

"So you're...on the run?" Lois asked.

Angelica winced mid-sip. "Not exactly. There are people that would...like me to go back. But if I keep a low profile, they can't **** me back. That's the whole idea with the club, really. Underground, quiet, unambitious."

"You could go straight," Lois suggested.

Angelica smiled. "I don't think I know how. I've been one of the bad guys for so long..."

"...it's never too late. Maybe you need to focus a little more on the future instead of the past."

Quiet descended once again, as the dickgirl chewed those words. Wang arrived with food.

Choy sum in oyster sauce. Congee, with strips of lean pork and a century egg. Steamed spare ribs with fermented black beans, and little red chili peppers. Orange cuttlefish. A pot of dark tea.

The two dug in to the feast.

In between bites, Lois told a little about herself. Her sister, Lucy; her father the general. Dead mother. Work at the Daily Planet. The coming of Superman...Angelica made a face at that, slurping up a stray tentacle. Lois caught the gesture; there was history there. The reporter reflected that Angelica had been pretty vague about the details. It wouldn't surprise her if the dickgirl actually had a history with the Man of Steel.

But what would that mean for them? For all she knew, with her vague reference to enemies, Blaze could have been involved with organized crime, or maybe one of Lex Luthor's lieutenants. Combined with her exotic accent, she almost assuredly wouldn't be an American citizen. Lots of warning signs. Yet she had never held a gun before—Lois was sure of that—and there was something so...lost about her.

Dessert was coconut pudding. In consistency, it reminded Lois Lane very much of what she had all but promised Blaze was also on the menu for dessert. Her pussy squeezed at the thought, still feeling the sticky mess that had been their last creampie.

Maybe I like the danger, Lois decided.

Angelica burped appreciably, then looked embarrassed. She dug a roll of hundred dollar bills out of a pocket, peeling off notes to pay for the meal. Lois sipped the last of her tea.

It was time to go. And, maybe...time to really undress Angelica Blaze.

"My place," Lois asked, "or yours?"