Someplace Romantic

"I want candlelight. A secluded table. Somewhere with atmosphere, good food...doesn't have to be expensive..." Lois added.

Angelica cocked an eyebrow. "Italian okay?"

The reporter's stomach grumbled. The shemale smiled. "Let's get dressed. I know a place."

By the time they hit the street, Blaze was dressed in street clothes—black jeans without underwear, a black shirt without bra that left her midriff bare, black sneakers with no socks. With Lois in her heels, that made them almost the same height...and the reporter wondered what people thought of the two women as they hailed a cab, and Angelica Blaze instructed the black woman behind the wheel how to get to Sangiovanni's.

It was a long ride, out past the heights, then down along the bay. Lois mostly looked out the window, watching the city go past, her hand on the seat between them...and after a few minutes she felt her lover's pinkie just casually bumping into her own. The reporter smiled into the glass. Too cute, but she liked the effort.

In fact, she liked just being...pursued. After so many years of getting nowhere with Superman, after so many months of no sex, feeling the squishy splooge in her pussy felt good. The fact that Angelica Blaze wanted more of Lois than just to get her rocks off felt even better. As for what Lois wanted...she wasn't so sure, yet. Aside from food.

Angelica held the door of the cab open for Lois, and the door to the restaurant. It felt like a weird bit of gallantry, but Blaze obviously felt like the "boy" in the relationship. The waitress smiled when she saw the shemale—actually smiled, as though she were a favorite regular—and ushered them into a private dining room.

The furniture was dark and old, but well-maintained. There was an honest-to-God red-and-white checkered tablecloth, and an empty bottle of Chianti that served as a candleholder for a single long red taper, which the waitress lit before leaving them to their menus. Blaze pulled out the chair for Lois, still treating her as the "girl." There wasn't much else in the room: wood paneling, and a wide window that took up most of one wall, showing the moon rising over the bay, a ship just pulling out of Metropolis Harbor.

"You come here often?" Lois asked as she browsed the dinner menu.

"The original Sangiovanni was a...client of mine," Angelica said, studying the wine list. "He was having some trouble when he first came to Metropolis. I helped him out."

"For his soul?" Lois teased. She had already half-guessed that Blaze must be some manner of supernatural being. Normal human women didn't have cocks, much less dick-tongues that you could fellate. No, it didn't take the Daily Planet's best reporter much to reason that she was dealing with some kind of demon or fairy, maybe even a goddess. Alien wasn't off the table either, but Lois hadn't seen any hint of technology. It didn't even look like Blaze had a smartphone.

"For someplace to come and...let my hair down a bit. You should try the ragu. It's very good."

And it was true, as far as Lois could see. The woman seemed...more relaxed. There was no one to perform for here, no flunkies, no customers. No one to ogle her tits or cock, no one trying to sell themselves...just two women, and the water, candlelight, and moonlight. They stared at the ocean for a little while, and Lois wondered what Blaze was seeing there, and how many times had she sat here, like this.

"Do you take all your dates here?" Lois asked quietly, afraid to break the comfortable silence.

"Others?" Angelica said, almost absently. "You're the first."

Like that, something clicked in Lois. Something she had been thinking about, but now decided to act upon. Carefully, deliberately, she pulled her chair back from the table.

"You know the menu—I want you to order for me." The woman told Blaze.

The shemale turned to Lois, her brow furrowed. "Why? Where are you going?"