Side-Plot 1: Lois cleans up real nice.

Lois **** herself to leave her sore quim alone while she showered in the gym locker room. The Planet maintained the gym -- really mostly treadmills, stationary bikes, and a Nautilus circuit -- so key personnel could work up a sweat without having to leave the building. Lois used it a few days a week -- usually when she was pretty sure sportswriter Steve Lombard wasn't using it. Today, she just needed to make herself 'reporter ready.'

God she was horny. Like nothing she'd ever felt. Sex seemed to be eating her up just underneath her skin, and she had no idea what to do about it. Her skin itched from the inside, and each drop of water hitting it was like she was being caressed. She could feel the orgasm deep inside her, coiling like a snake in her pelvis, running like fire up her spine and radiating into her arms and legs like burning cinders. She closed her eyes, running her hand down to her leg, and shifting--

Lois froze, and **** herself to move her hand back off her leg. No. She wasn't going to masturbate again. Not here, not now. She had a job to do. Lex Luthor was having a bullshit party to make a bullshit announcement, and Lois had to be there so she could dramatically reveal the whole thing to be bullshit. She knew damn well Luthor was obsessed with her -- less sexually attracted than infuriated that she wouldn't roll over and show him her belly like an abused puppy -- and she was certain some of these things were Lex's way of dipping her pigtails in inkwells, only the pigtails were innocent people and the inkwells were pain.

"...that's the stupidest fucking metaphor I ever thought of," she murmured. She turned the water off, grabbed her towel, and headed to the lockers, toweling off. She didn't want to face Luthor. For one thing, during her epic wank-fest in the bathroom she'd found herself thinking almost more of Lex than anyone else. She gave herself a nasty tittie-twister imagining his hand was mauling her breast. And she was angry as Hell that that had come closer than almost anything else to pushing her over the edge.

Closer... but not close enough.

She managed to get dressed without too many incidents. She considered, then went with a pad in her panties. She had considered a tampon, to staunch the flow of lubricant her body seemed to never run out of today, but she honestly didn't want anything in her cooch right now. She'd also grabbed gatorade from the vending machine in the gym. Hydration sounded like a really good idea today.

A few finishing makeup touches, and Lois stepped back to look at herself in the mirror.

Blue eyes. Blue-black hair, smooth skin with slightly sharp features. A good figure, especially given she wasn’t an amazon princess or a Kryptonian powerhouse with an idealized form. Toned muscles, so she wasn’t too soft but also not a fitness hardbody. Purple coat, buttoned. White pleated skirt. Black pumps specially made to wear and run like sneakers — Lois never trusted to fate and never ever wore heels if she could help it. Wedding ring, necklace, simple earrings. The earrings were clips that looked like studs, the necklace had a magnetic clasp that would break away if yanked. None of them were particularly valuable, and none would injure her if pulled off. Lois had learned a few things over time.

Okay. Whether or not she felt like Lois Lane, intrepid reporter today, she could at least fake it. She grabbed her bag from her locker, and fished out her phone—

One text message. “From Jules. Dr. Dale has to reschedule for three or four days from now. Will call to reschedule.”

Lois moaned. “Jules” meant “Justice League.” “Dr. Dale” was a reference to Chip’n’Dale’s Rescue Rangers. In this case, the rescue ranger was actually Clark. Clark has a mission and might be a few days.

Damn it. Never a nice, hard, Man of Steel around when you really needed one.

Welp. Nothing to be done. Lois launched a rideshare app and keyed in the LexCorp tower, priority service. The Planet was paying, after all.

This better not be a waste of time, damn it.