Whatever The Bartender Recommends. On The Rocks.

The bartender gave a thin-lipped smile. He reached for a whiskey glass, filled it with crushed ice, added several dashes from a bottle of Pichaud's bitters, another from a small bottle labeled XXX, and filled it with club soda.

"Bitters and soda," he said, setting it on a napkin before her. "A bit of flavor, but no real ****. You don't want to be too **** to enjoy the ladies."

Lois smiled, raised the glass to her lip and took a sip. Fizzy, bitter, and a little salty. It felt like a sports drink for grown-ups.

"I have to admit, I don't know where to start," she said, half turning to look at the cat-women. "I've heard about...metahumans, but I never imagined..."

"Yes. Ours is quite a unique establishment. A bit of an experiment, you might say," the bartender said. "But I assure you, any of our ladies would be more than willing to entertain you. It's been a slow night, and they can get quite...needy."

Lois found her eyes focused on the Black panther-like woman lazily licking her own clit. Her nose were long whiskers hanging out from her upper lip, and the pink tongue seemed long...and as Lois looked, she saw the tell-tale barbs, like a real cat. A shiver went down her spine. She couldn't imagine that would feel good on her own pussy...

"I hope I can afford it," Lois said, downing the rest of the drink...and staggering, suddenly dizzy. A sudden headache hit her, like when she ate ice cream too fast. The reporter wondered if she'd had too much, earlier.

"Oh, don't worry about that until after you're tried it," the bartender said...and Lois saw for the first time he was wearing latex gloves. "Are you feeling all right miss?"