Good Food, Getting To Know Each Other

Angelica Blaze, somewhat dazedly, reached over to poor Lois and herself a glass of wine.

"I won't ask why you did that," she told the reporter, "but do you mind if we talk for a bit?"

"What did you want to know?" Lois asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Who is Lois Lane?" The shemale's question hung in the air.

Lois stared for a moment, then reached for the glass of wine.

"What I mean is," Blaze went on, "I know who you are of course—the Daily Planet's greatest reporter, Pulitzer prize winner, Superman's alleged girlfriend—"

"I'm not—" Lois began.

"—but I don't know who you are. Tell me about yourself." Angelica picked up her own glass of wine and raised it in a toast. "I want to get to know you better."

The reporter hesitated, then raised her glass and clinked it softly against her date's.

"I'll want to know the same thing about you." The woman said. Blaze nodded silently, then sipped her wine. She was waiting.

So they talked, and a weirder, more intimate conversation Lois Lane had not had in years. She told Blaze about growing up as a military brat, her mother's ****, her sister, the early years at the Daily Planet leading up to the emergence of Superman. Angelica spun her a story of a childhood in hell, alongside her brother Satanus; a thousand years of hardscrabble villainy in perdition interspersed with trips to Earth, battles with champions and magicians. It was fascinating—and yet always, Blaze turned the conversation back to her, what Lois' life was like, her interests and hobbies, thoughts and opinions.

Under the table, their legs met...both women had kicked off their shoes, bare feet sliding against their calves, toes reaching desperately to caress thighs. Lois kept her feet away from her date's cock, which was presumably still hanging out of her fly under the cover of the table cloth, but Angelica Blaze had no such compunctions about playing with Lois' pussy. The shemale's hard toes pressed gently against Lois' pudenda through her pants, making the seed inside of the reporter's pussy squish. It added a certain playful frisson to the discussion.

The food arrived: spaghetti and sausage for Lois, rich and heavy and which she ate far more of than she should have, but her hunger tonight was extraordinary. Blaze had some sort of seafood platter, all black mussels and things with too many legs, which she shucked out of their shells with her bare hands.

Nor did the demon shy away from the topic that Lois was most interested in at the beginning of the meal—the missing women.

"They're working as 'models' at the moment," Angelica admitted. "Nude photography, webcam shows. It gives them opportunities to...well, the initial plan was to lead them into prostitution, use them as tools to corrupt others, drain their essence to fuel my power," she shrugged her shoulders. "I've withdrawn my influence. They should be coming back to themselves soon. A little more experienced, but I expect they'll pick up their old lives where they left them."

"That's it?" Lois said, pushing herself away from the table after using a bit of bread to scrape up the last of the sauce on her plate. Her stomach felt over-full. She had really overdone it on the spaghetti. The reporter reached down to her belly, which felt bloated. "You're giving up your plans like that?"

"You are more important," Blaze said quietly. "I hope you've saved room for dessert."