Yes

Maria stopped. Lois huffed, and stared at her as she started to come down from her almost-peak. From between Lois' thighs, the barmaid watched her, intently, but didn't move. The reporter could still feel those fingers in her pussy, but there was no more pressure, no movement or friction. Could barely feel the woman's warm breath on her pussy.

"Why did you stop?" she asked.

"Because," the barmaid looked serious. "all this time, I've been doing this for you. To you. What I want to know is—do you want this?"

The woman fell silent, and Lois panted. Her stomach gurgled, loud enough in the now quiet stall for both of them to hear it. She thought about the drinks she'd had, the sudden bout of nausea. Of Maria's lips locked onto her pussy in a long French kiss, of those fingers that had slipped inside and pressed her right there, and they were still in her, so close to that spot...

She shouldn't be doing this, Lois knew. It was dangerous. Unprofessional. She had come here to work, for information. The reporter looked into those hazel eyes...the same eyes that had stared up at her, through the valley of her tits and the gap of her thighs while her tongued worked...

"Yes." Lois whispered.

Maria didn't move. Didn't even smile. "Show me." she said.

Lois hesitated, confused, worked it out. Then she lifted herself up—just a little—off the seat, and began to shift her hips. Maria stayed stock-still, fingers hard and unyielding. Slowly, picking up speed, Lois fucked herself on those fingers. Shifted so that they would rub that spot inside of her. She felt the peak build within her again. Heat spread throughout her body, and her breath came in short gasps, but the nausea was gone as she concentrated on just the bounce of her hips, ass slamming into the knuckles of Maria's hand now as Lois humped her hand harder, as the barmaid's fingers hit just the right place inside her...

Her nipples were hard as rocks, even her clit had swollen out of its hood and stood erect, like the tip of a pinkie finger. The reporter let out a deep series of groans, thighs bunched around Maria's hand as she came. Unbidden, a flood of fluids splattered over the barmaid hand and forearm, fingers still buried in her black bush as deep as they would go. The afterglow of the orgasm left Lois a little drained; her thighs ached as Maria removed her hand and the reporter panted a little.

"Hey baby," Maria said. She smiled, then stood up. One long leg raised up, to rest on the pipes on the back of the toilet. The barmaid flipped up her skirt, revealed the bald lips of her labia, the small red-and-purple landing strip. The pussy was inches from Lois' face.

"Time to return the favor."

Downstairs

Initial viral load complete. Luthor watched the virus swarm flood through Lois' system, the bright lines of heat focused on her genital areas. Subject is ready for phase two.

"Good," Luthor said. He leaned over to the microphone. "Maria. Bring her to the White Room. Mercy will take it from there."