Wine

The sorceress pressed a brimming cup into the reporter's hand. A sweet, fruity fragrance came to the reporter's nose and made her realize how parched her throat was. She brought the cup of cool wine to her lips and sipped it, first carefully, and then more as she felt how strong it was. Port, or some other fortified wine, definitely. The **** would help ease the pain of the brand.

Circe settled down next to Lois in the sun, with her own goblet.

"The wine is so good today. I remember the first time I took wine with another woman, on the beaches of Lesbos...but then it was not beneath the hot sun, but under the moonlight, where no one could see us..."

The sorceress talked, spinning her stories of love and lust down the ages. Lois drank. The wine did help, the pain of the brand fading a little, and the reporter caring less and less about it as Circe described all the women she had known carnally...the things that she loved about them, the rose-tinted glasses that spoke only of the size and firmness of their breasts and buttocks, the feel of their pussies against her tongue, the things they would do with their fingers and...

Almost absently, Lois stared at her cup. The level in it had not changed, though she had been drinking steadily, and felt a pleasant buzz running through her head. The sun had not moved, though it felt like Circe had been talking for hours. How long had they been there, like that? How much had she drank?

"Have you ever been with a woman?" Circe asked, suddenly.

Almost without thought, slurring her words a little, Lois began to tell her own story. Feeling different than the other girls while growing up, sneaking glances. Steaing her father's magazines and admiring the women in the centerfolds as much as the hard cocks that they sucked and fucked. University days, playing games with the other young women—spin the bottle, but with just girls—and her roommate, who had burst in one night totally wasted and crashed in Lois Lane's bed, drunken lips planting kisses, grabby hands exploring...

They hadn't quite "done it" that night. There had been a few other times, here and there. Earlier that night with the barmaid Maria, she had almost gone too far.

"Too far," Circe repeated and licked her lips. Almost casually, the sorceress reached over and ran a finger along the length of Lois Lane's slit. Lois shivered as though cold, but didn't stop her. It felt good.

She stared at Lois, the eyes burning green now as though lit from within. "I would like to make love to you now."