Chapter 12 by Zeebop

What Does Lois Do?

Spread Her Legs

Lois Lane grit her teeth as she slipped out of the panties. She had heard about Constantine, the one time she and Zatanna had drank tequila together. The witch had sworn he was a bastard's bastard, a rogue, a conman, a liar, a thief...and one the greatest hellblazers and occultists she had ever met.

She laid on the bed, letting her knees dangle over the edge. It felt really uncomfortable doing this, her stomach turning over in knots...and then with terminal embarrassment, she spread her legs, baring her pussy to this complete stranger.

John Constantine pulled up a chair, front and center. He was smoking a cigarette, the pale grey cloud hanging in the air in front of him. The intensity of his stare scared her, all the more so because it was focused exclusively on her bare cunt. Lois hadn't ever had anybody look at her like that. Even the gynecologist at least managed to give the impression of dispassionate professional interest.

Then he began to talk.

"Oi. You in there. This is Constantine. John Constantine, asshole."

The cigarette was little more than a nub of coal above the filter. Constantine flicked it in a perfect glowing arc toward the waste bin by the bathroom. It missed by a foot, the butt landing on the hard tile floor.

"You're going to come the fuck out of there. Or I'm going to come in after you."

"What?" Lois sat up, appalled. Constantine held up a hand, still fixated on her pussy. The reporter's stomach rumbled terribly.

"I've got a bottle of holy water here," Constantine pulled a metal flask out of his pocket. "What do you think would happen, if I pour that inside, hmm? Think you'll like that?

"I did not agree to this!" Lois protested but didn't close her legs. Emotions warred inside of her. Was she right to trust this guy? Was he just some perv out to get his jollies?

"One last chance," he gestured at the poor abused slit accusingly. "You either come out now, or I'll make you come out!"

Lois Lane waited with bated breath for something—anything—to happen. But as far as she could tell, there was no difference.

Constantine took a deep breath, puffing out his chest. "Well, can't say I didn't warn you."