I Bet You Say That To All The Girls

Lois smirked at the Englishman's quip, and offered her own rejoinder.

"I bet you say that to all the girls." She gave him a wink. "Or is there a Mrs. Constantine at home?"

Constantine shot her a crooked smirk as the door to the elevator opened, and held up his left hand—no ring. "No worries luv. Just think of me as a paranormal gynecologist."

"Hypocratic oath and all? First, do no harm?" Lois teased as she led him to her apartment.

"Oh no," Constantine's grinned widened. "I've been known to wreck things. But I've never had any complaints."

Lois smiled as she opened the door and went through first, the Englishman following her in. Despite the situation, she was enjoying the repartee. "They had that much fun?"

"That..." Constantine shut the door. "...or they were too dead to make it formal."

The blond man turned around, all smiles gone, and Lois saw him clearly for the first time. Rugged features which suggested hard living, bags under his eye like he hadn't slept, hard stubble on his cheeks, and that trenchcoat...the thing looked like it had been through a couple of wars. The dress pants, shirt, and tie he was wearing beneath it had been expensive once, she could tell at a glance. But like the rest of him, they had seen a lot of hard use.

Almost unconsciously, her eyes fell to his crotch, noting the bulge down his left leg. Promising...

"Serious time now, luv. You've got something in you, and you need to get it out now."

Lois sighed, suddenly a bit more sober. "Yes, fine. I'll go into the bathroom and do it right now. If you don't mind waiting in the kitchen?"

"Of course not." Constantine was surveying the apartment, not moving from his position by the door—the only way in or out. "Go on now. I'll wait."

A bit uneasy, Lois left the kitchen, passing through the bedroom, where she ditched her heels, and into the bathroom. She carefully closed and locked the door, something she almost never did in her own apartment...but then, she didn't normally have strange men up here, either.

There were butterflies in her stomach as she peeled off the tight red pants, felt the bottle poking her inside as she bent down. Now that the adrenaline was dying down, it was a lot more uncomfortable than it had been before...or maybe, the reporter thought as she sat down on the toilet, wincing at the object lodged in her pussy, she was just paying more attention to it.

Pants off, and then Lois hooked her thumbs through the band of her black lace panties. Instinctively, she shot an eye toward the door..but it was still closed. No way that John Constantine could see her as she lowered the underwear over her legs. Holding up the underwear, she noted a weird, off-white crusty stain on them. Frowning, she tossed the dirty panties into the laundry hamper and got back to the matter at hand.

Sitting on the toilet, half-naked, Lois took a deep breath and stared down at her crotch. There was only one way to get the bottle into her, and only one way to get it out. Reaching down, past the tuft of carefully-manicured pubic hair, her fingers teased apart her sore netherlips and ran along the smooth circular glass base of the bottle...which is when Lois first noticed the problem.