Someplace Expensive

"Okay..." Angelica said. "But if that's how you want it, we'll have to dress up a little."

She snapped her fingers. There was the sound of distant thunder...and Lois looked down to find herself in a black party dress, skirt a solid tube to just above her knees, tight at the waist, and with a black push-up bra to give her a hint of cleavage in the shoulderless top.

Blaze herself was dressed in a slim suit, with a thin black tie. A masculine cut, though it did nothing to hide the swell of her breasts, the size of her hips, or...as Lois looked for it...the bulge of her cock, trailing down the left leg.

"C'mon," the dickgirl urged, taking the reporter's hand.

They passed through the club in silence, none of the clientele or waitresses seeming to notice them. Rode the elevator together without a word...and Lois felt the hair rise on the back of her neck as Blaze led her through the crowded club, the thronging young people gliding out of their way, apparently naturally and of their own accord without sparing either of them a glance. Out into the dark, cool night air of Metropolis.

A hot pink limousine was waiting. The driver, a blonde woman in a chauffeur's cap and pink jacket, opened the door.

"Sorry," Angelica said as the door closed. "All I could get at short notice...without breaking a few laws."

Lois dabbed at one of the arm-rests. A coke mirror popped out, and she slid it back into place.

"Whatever. Where are we going?"

"Lexor Hotel," she said. "Five stars on the Michelin guide. I think they want a credit check just for making a reservation."

The reporter grunted, impressed despite herself. Then again, it was obvious that Blaze was using magic. Probably paying for things with fairy gold.

The worst part was, Lois Lane's pussy ached. She still wanted that dick, and she didn't like that. Sure, she'd been on a long dry spell, that didn't mean she had to bend over for the first well-hung supervillain she stumbled across during an investigation. So she stared out the window at Metropolis passing by and berated herself for falling into this situation. Blaze, for her part, seemed willing to give Lois her space.

They arrived. Doors opened. The maître d'hotel smiled ingratiatingly as he led them to a private room. The silverware felt like real silver. The menus were letterpress printed on some handmade Japanese paper. No prices.

"I hear if you order a baby seal," Angelica joked. "They bring you a club and let you do the honors yourself."

Lois scowled at the off-colour joke.

"You're really bad at this dating thing, aren't you?" The reporter hissed.

"I don't get a lot of practice," Blaze admitted. "But I'd like to make you happy. Do they not have anything here you want to eat? We can go somewhere else. Anywhere you like."

"The only thing I want eaten around here," Lois growled. "Is me."

And without further ado, Angelica Blaze dropped beneath the table.

Lois was about to say something when the waitress came in to take her order. The reporter cleared her throat and glanced at the menu...then she set it down.

"What do you recommend?" she asked the young woman, as a pair of hands ruffled her skirts. For the first time since Blaze's magical changing act, Lois realized she wasn't wearing panties.

"The chef does a wonderful roast duck a la banana, stuffed with oysters, white wine sauce, side of pasta with shaved truffle, cup of turtle soup." The waitress said automatically. "Pairs well with champagne, we have a bottle of '58 left in the cellar." Her voice dipped low. "And she swears it's an aphrodisiac."

The reporter nodded. "We'll have two."

The waitress nodded and left. A hot breath huffed against the reporter's pussy. Lois Lane, still mad but also still horny, slid down in her chair and spread her legs, inviting her date's tongue deep inside her cunt.