Investigate

Moving quickly, Lois removed her shoes and shimmied out of her pants. She left the panties on, though—black lace, with side-string ties, the kind of subtle barrier that kept propriety and yet remained sexy—shrugged out of her jacket and grabbed a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold, placing one velvet-lined cuff closed about her left wrist, and the blindfold pushed up on her forehead—so that in five seconds, she could be on the bed and bound, waiting for her lover-of-the-evening.

But until she heard the door rise again, Lois was on a different mission...to find out what there was down here.

To the untrained eye, the room under the bar was rather small and crowded: racks of dusty winebottles on one side, pipes and machinery for the bar equipment on the other, with a slight path in between leading straight to the bed. But Lois Lane, even with the sticky taste of cum in her mouth, was a reporter who noticed the details that most people missed...

Details like the strange plastic tube marked 'XXX' that went along the ceiling and disappeared in a hole drilled into the wall...and there were scrape marks along the floor in front of one wine rack.

Lois stood in front of the rack, staring at the bottles, the shelves...and noticed that one bottle was free of dust. Glancing quickly toward the stairs, to make sure Angelica wasn't descending, cock swinging back and forth between her knees, the reporter put her hand on the bottle and gave it a little tug—and there was no movement at all.

She gave it a little twist, first to the left, than to the right...and it moved. Twist a little further and there was a click...and the wall swung forward, just a fraction of an inch.

"Jackpot," Lois whispered...and then she heard the trap door up above begin to swing open.