They Find A Dealer, But...

"I got what you want, but I got this problem." The dealer pressed a hand against the loose, filthy black jeans covering his inner thigh. "Maybe you help me with that, I give you a little discount, yeah?"

In a room full of perverts, **** addicts, and headbanging wanna-be Satanists with their junkie groupies, Lois Lane had zeroed in on their dealer—the skeeviest looking prick in the room, a skinny thing that looked a little too young for a club, face scattered with acne scars, a greasy looking goatee, lanky brown hair that needed to be washed more than once a month. His outfit was a mix of hipster thrift store divings and Hot Topic.

He was holed up next to the men's room, and nobody who sat down next to him stayed for long enough to order a drink, much less down it. That as much as anything told Lois that he was holding, and Alice had taken the reporter's lead as she slid into the booth next to him, forcing the dealer to scooch over to make room. Deadman had hung back at the bar, ordered a drink, surveying the room for trouble.

Now the dealer had his "problem."

"Doesn't look like a 'little' problem to me." Alice said, and Lois had to admit the young witch was right. The bulge in those loose jeans extended all the way down to the dealer's knee.

"DMN, y'know, it hits people differently." He grinned, showing crooked, yellow-stained teeth. "Me, I guess I was always a kind of a horny goat, and now...well, it gets hard to deal with, especially when pretty bitches like you get so close..."

Lois made a show of licking her lips, long tongue running over her teeth. She was actually feeling okay with the idea of blowing this guy, if that's what it took. As the Daily Planet's star reporter, Lois Lane had sometimes done questionable things to get a story—go on dates, let people feel her up, even to second base—and there had been one time, as a cub reporter when she had been all alone with this young lieutenant and...well, she hadn't counted that one.

She laid a pair of fingers on his arm, walking her hand down toward his trousers.

"Does that line work with a lot of girls?" Lois asked coyly.

"Only the ones that are hard up for another hit," the dealer's eyes narrowed. "Your friend there, she looks like a virgin. But you've been doing a bit, right? Maybe you're cluckin' already?"

Lois said nothing, but pointedly didn't meet his eye, making a noncommittal noise. First rule of any interview, get the subject talking.

"When a DMN-bitch starts cluckin', she's like a bitch in heat. Can't think about nothin' else." He was trying to make his voice sound hard, but Lois detected more than a few notes of hope in it. "Even...uh...let somebody stick it in their ass."

The reporter leaned in close, pressing her breasts against the dealer's arm. Her voice was breathy, Lois aiming sultry and seductive. Her fingers had reached the end of his hand, and now were stroking the head of his dick through the dealer's pants.

"Well stud...tell you what. Maybe I am clucking a little...and maybe I would like that discount...if you don't mind going somewhere a little more private."

He swallowed hard, and Lois could tell his eyes were all in her cleavage. But he did have one more question...

"B-both of you?"

Lois shot a glance at Alice.