A Lesbian Bar

Tits flashed across glaring screens. Lois Lane blinked, then paused as she saw she was in a kind of anteroom to the club proper. Naked women lounged at tables and chairs, danced on the floor before a naked band, kissed and groped one another in half-shadowed booths. The only clothes were on bartenders and waitresses—lingerie, latex, leather, and lace that did more to showcase their charms than hide them. The reporter saw women of every shape and size, from thin, barely-legal blondes in crotchless panties and a "bra" that was little more than loops of string that left the small breasts bare, to tall, statuesque women clad head-to-foot in tightly clinging latex, face hidden by a mask with a zipper across the lips.

This latter figure stood at the entrance, arms crossed beneath her breasts, preventing entry.

To the reporter's right, there was a cough...and she turned to see a coat check room. The small Asian woman held out a cardboard box.

"Place your clothes in here," the woman said, smiling but obviously somewhat bored. "If you order a drink or cunnilingus or anything, you'll get a stamp on your arm. You'll be charged when you leave."

With an uneasy grin, Lois nodded—and began to strip. Any hesitation at this point would look suspicious. Yet curiosity impelled her to ask a few questions.

"What happens if someone is on her period?" Lois asked.

"You can rent a towel, or a diaper," the Asian woman said. "Management is not responsible for you catching a disease, so I hope you'd have your shots."

Fortunately, Lois had. She tried to ignore the eyes of the latex-clad bodyguard, yet as Lois peeled off her pants and panties, she couldn't help but feel her cheeks start to burn.

Relax, Lane. Just like changing at the gym, Lois lied to herself.

"Can I take my phone in?" Lois asked.

"No, sorry. No wireless devices. Not even a personal fitness tracker," the Asian smiled sadly. "But if you want, I can rent you a strap-on...some of the shyer ladies like that."

Lois thought of her demonic pussy. Cutting off access to that was contraindicated.

"No, thank you," Lois said, as she undid her bra...and just like that, Lois Lane was nude. She handed the box of clothes to the coat closet lady, and in turn received a stamp on her inner wrist...a black ink pentacle. Staring at that made her pussy tingle a little...and for a moment Lois wondered what that meant.

Then the looming latex-clad giant stepped aside and ushered Lois in. Bold as she could, the naked reporter stepped into what appeared to be a lesbian paradise...but Lois knew there was a serpent in this garden, one she had to find...and welcome into her pussy.