Through The Black Door

Upstairs, Lois knew, was a horny college crowd. Clubgoers that had come to get laid, virile studs rubbing themselves up against any girl within reach...and the reporter could almost feel her ovaries throb, and knew she couldn't trust herself up there. Nor could she go back, to where Rat and his dripping penis lay. So she stared at the Black Door...not knowing what might lie beyond it. Yet when faced with such temptation, Lois steeled herself, and reached out...

...and almost fell, grabbing at thin air, feet skipping on the floor. The reporter looked back an could clearly see the cage for the freight elevator, the hallway she had been in, but of the door itself...nothing.

Lois found herself in a narrow hallway, like an alley, with bare concrete walls and no light except what spilled through from where the Black Door should have been. She turned away from the light, to stare at the darkness.

A breeze came to her, redolent with a slight tang of incense. Sound too, came to her...a voice, definitely female, singing something soft and indistinct. Lois took a step forward, and then another. The song grew a little louder, though the words were still indistinct.

The cramp struck Lois, and she huddled in the dark, one hand around her belly until it subsided. Her crotch felt like a swamp, pussy far too wet, stiff clit grinding against the thin black lace of her panties. The reporter's stiff nipples poked at her bra, **** for attention. She really wanted a cock right now, in a way that she hadn't in years. Not since she was a teenager, desperately sneaking vegetables back to her bed at night, rubbing herself against the edge of the sink in the morning just to relieve some of the stress, **** for anything phallic.

Lois took a deep breath of the scented air, trying to calm herself by focusing on that song. It seemed to help. The burning need wasn't gone, exactly, but the focus seemed to push it into the background, a dull ache in her pussy like the rumble of an empty stomach. Putting her hand out to either side to touch the walls, Lois walked on into the darkness.

Distance was difficult to measure without looking back, and Lois wanted to stare forward, let her eyes adjust to the dimness. After perhaps a hundred feet, she was aware that the concrete gave way to brick, held together by crumbling mortar, and Lois wondered if she was in an older part of Metropolis now...the city that had been buried when they put up the skyscrapers, revamped the downtown... The scents became heavier, more distinct. She could pick out cinnamon and cardamom, and something oily and smokey. The song too was louder, echoing down the walls, and Lois could pick out a word here and there...

Cummer, go ye before, cummer go ye...

If ye willna go before, cummer, let me...

The words triggered something in Lois, half a memory. She had heard them sung before, sometime long ago. She wracked her memory, but came up with nothing when a sudden obstacle interrupted her ruminations.

The long alley had ended at a t-junction. The light from behind was impossibly dim, but Lois could make out the shape of it now, the gaping voids to left and right. The breeze with its heavy spicy scents was coming from her left, but the strange, half-familiar song was coming from her right. The reporter paused, debating her options.