Clark Kent Is Surprised...But Willing To Meet Them For A Drink

They waited in the club for a table to empty, and then claimed it. Lois Lane reached over and unbuttoned the top of Lana Lang's blouse, she had already claimed the redhead's panties and stuffed them into a pocket of her jacket.

"You won't be needing these tonight," the reporter said.

"You don't know if he'll take us up on it," Lana countered. "You know Clark, he can be...prudish."

"That just means we have to seduce him," Lois said, signaling to a waitress for drinks.

"We?" Lana said. She smiled. "Does that mean you want to fuck him too? A threesome?"

"I want to see him fuck you," Lois said. It was weird to her how strongly the thought and image of that was affecting her. She licked her lips, wanting to taste another one of those odd grey cocktails. In the normal course of things, setting up a booty call so that she could watch Lana Lang getting fucked by Clark Kent would be completely out of character...but right now, it felt like that moment of masturbation when her fingers were rubbing so fast that she couldn't stop, even if she wanted to. Lois needed to see them fuck. Like a biological imperative, the devil on her shoulder whispered into her ear, coaxing her on.

"Hmph," Lana said, as a tray of gray cocktails arrived. "Well, I guess. Honestly, if I wasn't so absolutely horny right now..."

"You too?" Lois said.

"God, yes," Lana shook her head. She raised her glass, and the two women clinked. They sipped the salty, slightly bitter drinks, thick and slimy as yogurt as it slid down their throats, with an aftertaste a bit like ammonia. The XXX special, Lois had called it, and just a sip seemed to stoke the fires within, so that underneath the table the two women squirmed. "I don't know what's come over me tonight, first that thing in the bathroom and now..."

The redhead's phone rang. She tapped at it.

"He's here!" she whispered. Lois stood up...and there, near the door, looking lost and confused with his broad shoulders and bad suit, was Clark Kent. She waved her arm...and he saw her and moved through the crowd with deceptive grace, none of the usual bumping into people, despite the chaotic mass of moving bodies in the club.

They rose and greeted him with kisses on his cheeks, which rose a blush. He smiled automatically, and took his seat...Lois was surprised to find that her glass was empty, and she motioned to the waitress again. Lana had her hand on Clark Kent's knee beneath the table.

"So, Smallville," Lois Lane said. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"I guess," he hedged. The waitress caught the reporter's eye and Lois held up three fingers. A nod, and that was enough.

"When was the last time you made love to a woman?" Lois said.

Clark coughed, like a mountain shaking. Lois didn't need to look under the table to know that Lana's hand was moving. Both of them could feel it, the **** need. It was all they could do not to crawl in his lap right now.

"I don't kiss and tell, Lois," he said with a nervous smile.

"That's exactly why we called you," the reporter said. "Because Lana and I...we really want to...experience some intimacy tonight. With someone we trust. Someone who won't go blabbing to all his friends the next day. Someone that won't let us down."

She fluttered the lashes on her violet eyes and leaned in.

"Lois...are you asking me to..." he began.

Lana Lang lost patience. She leaned forward, her hand groping his crotch.

"What she's saying, Clark, is that I want you to make love to me," Lana said. "And so does she."

He stood, stoic as if carved from stone. The waitress set down the drinks, one grey cocktail in front of him...and Clark's eyes opened. He reached forward to grab the glass, and Lana and Lois followed suit.