The Ace O' Clubs

Squeezed back into their clothes, demon and half-demon left the Lesbian Pit. Blaze murmured an incantation, throwing a glamour over the reporter so that no one would see her new true form...but Blaze still could, and she found herself eyeing the ass in those tight red pants hungrily, admiring the cute little horns, the way the tint of Lois Lane's skin caught the light...

It was a magic deeper than any Blaze had ever practiced in her centuries of sorcery.

She was falling in love.

Lois led the way, through the streets of Metropolis to Suicide Slum, the local ghetto...and there on a corner, the one dive bar where not even the most hardened criminal Metropolis dared to start any shit: the Ace O' Clubs.

The reporter burst through the doors with a smile on her lips, and headed straight to the bar. A scarred, grizzled giant of a man with a nose that had broken so many times it was practically shapeless, cauliflower ears, and long-sleeved Superman shirt gave her a crooked grin. He finished pouring some punter's suds and took the money without looking.

"Miss Lane!" He said. "What are youse doin' here?"

"Hi, Bibbo," she greeted him back. "I'm tracking down a story. Looking for four women...they probably came here. Pawing all over each other. Probably looking for a cheap love nest..."

He listened intently as she gave their names and descriptions. One callused thumb ran over his stubbly chin—a jaw that had never been broken, not even in his worst fights. Blaze hung back, surveying the crowd of Suicide Slum regulars, feeling oddly out of place...and then she felt a cold nose against her ankle.

The demon looked down to see a small white dog. There were scars under its fur, and the breed was—indeterminate. You could see some bulldog in there, and husky, and probably a bit of wolf and chihuahua if you looked hard enough. It was a white, dog-shaped critter that could not be more mutt...and those piercing blue eyes stared straight through the succubus' glamour. It stretched itself and pawed at her leg, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Blaze gently reached down and rubbed behind his ears, the dog making that sound that dogs make when you have done everything they could hope a human could accomplish for them.

"Krypto! C'mere!" Bibbo barked.

Quick as a wink, the dog scuttled off, sliding beneath a gap and heading behind the bar.

"Yeah, I know your ladies—I ain't one o' them jerks that ain't down wit' da LB-Gay-T-types," he said. "Dey was here a week befor' their dough ran out, so I hired a couple of 'em as barbacks...the others, they been dancin' at the Palace, which is that place across the way what handles exotic types. Ladyboys or bustyboys, or whatever you want to call 'em. But dey still stayin' in the back room, 'til they get a down payment for an apartment...you can go talk to 'em...tell 'em Bibbo sent ya..."

Lois turned, gave Blaze a wink, and then headed off for a door in the back.

Which left Blaze and Bibbo, staring at one another across the bar. His easy grin for Lois Lane died into a flat line. She felt his eyes almost as animal, as penetrating, as the dog's had been, and for a moment the succubus felt utterly exposed.

"So," he said. "This here's a bar. Whatta y'all have?"

It was a test, and Blaze knew it—and she knew, somehow, that if she ever wanted to fuck Lois Lane's sweet pussy again, she had better pass.