Gropecunt Lane

Metropolis was not built on cowpaths, no matter what some of the nastier tourguides might say. But Lois Lane knew that the founders had based the streets on those of London, which had been built-over cowpaths. So the grid of the downtown broke down around Suicide Slum into a tangle of narrow streets and ancient alleys, some of which kept their old names.

"In the 20s, Gropecunt was fashionable," Blaze mused, staring out the window. Lois chugged the last of the gallon of milk from her fridge and said nothing. Her breasts were starting to really hurt. "Artists moved in, Bohemians and intellectuals. Set up their studio apartments next to the pimps and whores, many of whom modeled for them during the day. At night, it was back out on the street."

There were still prostitutes on the street. Plain-looking women for the most part, dressed to show skin, to make their pussies and asses easily accessible with small skirts, some of them bundles up in jackets against the cold, but always flashing them open as the cars passed, displaying the goods on sale.

As a cub reporter, Lois had walked this mile back and forth, talking to the whores. They were each fierce in defending their territory, because they had to be; lamposts were major territory, and intersections and corners. The middle stretches of the street tended to be dark and lonely, and that's where the junkies and weirder sorts ended up...those near burnout and a few over the line, where you risked a lot more disease for a lot fewer dollars.

One or two houses on the street were brothels, though Lois had never been inside of one. She knew that they tended to stay quiet, and had little trouble because they bribed the police and paid off the mob, and consequently the pimps and madams that ran them could get away with quite a lot.

"Still nowhere near as bad as Gotham," Blaze said, as though to finish Lois Lane's thoughts. "How are you doing?"

"There's a pressure in my chest," Lois admitted. She stared down at her boobs, but couldn't really see how swollen they were with the trench coat she had on. "They feel...sore. Like someone punched me in the nipple."

"Good," Blaze said. The car stopped, the drive not bothering to look back as the demon handed him a small golden card. "We're here?"

"Where is 'here'?" Lois said irritably. Staring out into the night. There were two blocks between street lights in any direction, and even the whores kept free of this section, the way street people do when there's been a **** or a ****. Lois didn't want to think about walking out of here, but considered possible escape routes.

Four blocks would bring me to Metropolis Park... she thought, not wanting to consider the junkies there at this time of night.

"My brothel. A very special brothel, Lois. My girls specialize in..."