Let's Go Somewhere Private

Lois Lane stared at the topless waitresses and many customers. The heat was weighing on her, and she was very thirsty. "Preferably somewhere with air conditioning. And water."

"The VIP room," Angelica said, indicating a curtained doorway. "If you ladies will join me."

Lois stared at her mother. "She's coming with?"

"The curse. She cannot leave...well, it's a very old unit of measurement, the distance covered by a single breath...suffice to say, you will never be alone, until the terms of the curse are fulfilled."

The reporter blushed. "Even when I...?"

"Oh dear," Ella Lane patted her daughters' hand. "Nothing I haven't seen before, I assure you. Although I should say..."

"Let's go!" Lois cut her off, standing up and heading toward the indicated curtain with one smooth movement. Blaze and her mother trailed in her wake.

Behind the red curtain was a very solid, very normal door, with an old-fashioned brass knob. There was a cool hiss of air hissing out from the door jamb, and the reporter threw it open and stepped willingly into the cool, dimly-lit room beyond.

It reminded Lois of other VIP rooms she had been in...quiet, lit faintly by recessed pink lights, low couches and tables, suitable for drinks and conversation or a lap dance. They were alone, but there was a bucket of ice with a bottle on the nearest table, three long-stemmed glasses. There was even a bowl of fresh strawberries. Hidden speakers played a subdued, pulsing beat.

The door clicked shut behind her.

"One of the ladies will bring us some water," Angelica said, moving forward. "But I'm dying for a taste of champagne."

With three long strides, the dickgirl crossed to the bottle, dress swishing faintly. It was impossible for Lois to ignore what she knew was behind those long legs, but all the rest of her—the twitch of her hips, the shapely breasts, those cheekbones—spoke of a woman.

Lois sucked in the cool air, feeling the heat radiating off her skin, glad for the moment that she was topless. In a moment, she knew, she'd be freezing—her nipples were already hard headlights—but for now, she was simply glad to be out of the dry heat of the club.

There was a pop and fizz. Blaze began to fill the glasses. Ella Lane slipped out of her shoes and took up a nonchalant position on a couch, a little ways away from Blaze and Lois, but the older woman accepted a glass cheerfully.

Lois felt the cool crystal stem pressed into her own hand. It smelled a little like bread, which was how all really good champagne should smell, and Blaze raised her glass in a little toast.

"To happy endings," Blaze said softly. Instinctively, the reporter clinked glasses. They sipped their bubbly; barely a hint of sweetness, dry and crisp, the kind that made you take a sip and savor it, then realize you wanted more.

"Now," the shemale said as she sat down, legs crossed, hiding that bulge between her legs in the fold of her gown. "What did you want to ask me about?"