A Camera

There, up in the corner. Just out of the corner of her eye was a little cube of plastic, with a dull fish-eye lens. Watching.

Lois Lane made sure not to stare directly at it, pretended she hadn't seen it. Her hand clutched Jimmy Olsen's arm as she dragged him out of the stall and toward the sinks.pretended she hadn't seen it. Her hand clutched Jimmy Olsen's arm as she dragged him out of the stall and toward the sinks.

"Act natural," she whispered as she turned on the faucets and reached for the paper towels.

"Bwuh?" He said, his eyes glazed in post-orgasmic bliss.

"They're watching. Wash your filthy cock," Lois said before she ducked down to wash her hand and rinse out her mouth, in that order.

Jimmy numbly did as her was told. He leaned over the sink, his balls on the porcelain, and grabbed a palmful of liquid soap to lather and smear on his dick. There was something pathetic about the gesture...it made Lois want to bully him, and she wasn't the bullying type. She wondered how the hell he had made it this far in life...but she was more concerned about that camera.her was told. He leaned over the sink, his balls on the porcelain, and grabbed a palmful of liquid soap to lather and smear on his dick. There was something pathetic about the gesture...it made Lois want to bully him, and she wasn't the bullying type. She wondered how the hell he had made it this far in life...but she was more concerned about that camera.

Someone had been watching. Someone had seen her, maybe recorded her. What else had they seen? What happened to the missing women? Maybe. She needed to find out who was watching and where. Casually, the reporter stretched...a setup like that spy camera couldn't have much of a range. Whoever was watching was doing so from inside the club. That meant she needed to get out of the club proper and into the back rooms...

...and Jimmy Olsen was going to help her do it.