Her Sister, Lucy Lane

A few years younger, a few inches shorter. Blonde where Lois was brunette, blue-eyed where the reporter was violet. Yet they had the same cheeks and face that their mother had, the same long legs and trim waists, flat abs and small, perky breasts.

"What on earth are you wearing young lady?" Ella said aghast, through her older daughter's mouth as she stared at her younger child.

The younger Lane was wearing a black leather miniskirt that barely hid her panties, thigh-high boots with three-inch fuck-me-pump heels, and a triangular shirt that could have doubled as a large handkerchief—no bra, Lois noticed, and her little nipples were clearly visible. Lois had seen whores with less revealing outfits.

"I could ask you the same!" Lucy shouted back over the noise of the club, smiling. "You look like you're on the prowl!"

Her mother's smile flickered onto the reporter's face. Lois dreaded what was about to come out of her mouth, but by then the younger woman had taken her by the hand and was leading her toward a table.

Not good, Lois thought to herself. What is Lucy doing here? And what might mom do now that...oh no.

With both of her daughters here, Lois realized, their mother's chances of getting a grandchild had just doubled. If she could get either—or both—of her daughters laid tonight...

A waitress arrived with a bottle of tequila and bottles of beer, chunks of green lime sticking out of their sweaty necks. Before Lois knew it, her hand was reaching out and knocking back a shot, the hot, harsh buzz of the liquor hitting the back of her throat and sliding all the way down. Lucy, with a smile, tossed back her first shot as well.

"Like mom always said," Lucy giggled, reaching for a bottle. "Liquor before beer..."

"...you're in the clear, beer before liquor, never been sicker." Ella finished for her.

They clinked the necks of their bottles, biting the lime and taking their first swig, the bitter liquids pushing out the taste of the tequila.

That set the tone, really. Lucy and "Lois" began to chat, reminiscing about old times, catching up. Ella, speaking through her daughter, was sure to turn nearly every question and answer to sex or reproduction. The blonde Lane apparently had already had a few, since she found this hilarious, and gave as good as she got, asking if Lois was going baby-crazy. Ella was about to answer when...

"Do you ladies mind if I join you?"

It was a man's voice, deep and rich, and Lois Lane's eyes were drawn to his bulging crotch before sweeping up over the broad, muscular chest to the face.