They Eat. Or At Least, Lois Does.

Still lingering in the afterglow of her climax, Lois Lane sat up a little straighter in her chair, sure she could make it through the meal. She was, after all, a full-grown, mature woman, not some sex-starved, hormonal teenager. The whole point of this was that Angelica Blaze was supposed to do something other than fuck her...

The duck a la banana arrived.

It was a small bird, with crispy skin...and the baked bananas jammed into the gaping hole between its legs was a visual spectacle that Lois couldn't miss, since it was set down such that she stared at it. The waitress kept up a quiet patter as she served out oysters on the half shell and other side-dishes, and as she left Lois caught the asp-like movement of Blaze's hand—and saw that the dickgirl had slipped a folded hundred-dollar bill into the waitress' back pocket.

"Well," Angelica said. "Let's dig in, shall we?"

They ate—and for a little while, it was like Lois was on a really good date. They talked, they nibbled, popped the champagne. Alternated between asking questions and stripping meat and baked banana onto their plates and into their mouths.

Except...Lois noticed that Angelica wasn't actually eating anything. She mimed the process, but none of the food on her plate seemed to reach her mouth. In fact, Lois noticed that her own plate seemed to continue to be full, no matter how much she ate...and as the dinner went on, the reporter could feel herself reach the point of fullness where she would normally stop.

Then Angelica met her eyes.

"You should try the oysters. You've barely touched them." The dickgirl said.

Lois frowned; a side plate contained a dozen shells from the oysters she had slurpsed down.

"You're one to talk. Have you eaten a single bite this whole dinner?" Lois countered.

"My...anatomy...doesn't require much in the way of physical sustenance," Blaze said. Her eyes were pure white now, without pupil or iris, as she met the reporter's gaze. "You, on the other hand, are eating for more than just yourself. I think you should keep eating."

The reporter glowered. She didn't like anyone telling her what to do.

"Here," Blaze stood up and slid around the table. She stood behind Lois, one hand on slid around the reporter's neck and touched her jaw. Just a little pressure, not enough to **** Lois Lane's mouth open if she didn't want it to be opened. The dickgirl's other hand grabbed an oyster and brought it to Lois Lane's lips. "Let me help you."