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Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found Here

Where we left off in Part 161…

“It’s not as if Luthor will give me unemployment if I get out, or I’ll be able to get another job with murder charges hanging over my head,” Jimmy scoffed. “At least, here, I get room and board, even if the food is inedible and my roommates and accommodations leave something… everything to be desired.”

Clark nodded. “Nose around. We want to see what you can find out.”

“Find out?” Jimmy returned and then lowered his voice. Luckily, the guard didn’t even glance over at them. Something out the door had caught his eye. “If anyone in here knew about the plan to set me up, I doubt they’d brag about it to me.”

“We’ve suspected something rotten in his business dealings for a while, but we still need proof,” Clark clarified. “Keep your ears open. It’s possible that someone in there knows something. Anything, any tidbit to send us looking in the right direction would help.”

Jimmy nodded and actually appeared excited by the prospect of something other to do than staring at the cinderblocks. “Do you think it might help Lois see the light of day?”

Clark smiled. “In more ways than one, my friend.” He dropped his voice as the guard moved to the door. “Take care though, Jimmy. Be subtle. Casually drop Luthor’s name and see how people react. Don’t ask any direct questions. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t let anyone know that you’re on a fishing expedition. You’d be undercover without any backup, and prison is a rough enough place.”

Jimmy shot him a grin. “Gotcha, CK.”

The guard opened the door and admitted a sandy-haired man in a suit, who appeared vaguely familiar. The man openly glowered at Clark. “Who are you? What are you doing talking to my client?”

Jimmy glanced between the two of them. He knocked Clark’s recorder across the table to him. “He’s just a reporter who wanted to interview me, and he’s just leaving. Who are you?”

“Marcus Schwartz. Mr. Luthor hired me at the request of Lois Lane to assist in your defense,” the man replied.

At Jimmy’s stunned look, the officer guarding him spoke up, “He’s your attorney, kid.”

“Peachy.”

***

Part 162

True to form, Lex wouldn’t let Lois return to the Fifth Street Mission. She knew it was one of the compromises she made in returning to her in-depth investigation, now to save Jimmy from prison. Since Mayson Drake wasn’t actually officially logging her community service hours any longer, Lois decided to kill two birds with one stone… well, three birds actually, and agreed to work off the rest of her community service at the Luthor House for Homeless Children. She could not only appease Lex, but also do Rat a favor. Lois would turn in her paperwork to Mayson, when all the hours had been logged, just to see the expression on the bottled blonde’s face. Knowing Mayson Drake, though, she probably wouldn’t accept it as community service since Lois was engaged to the benefactor of the Luthor House.

Rat had mentioned something about no longer wanting to deliver Lois’s notes to Clark because he was ‘afraid for the life of his brother’ now that she was engaged to Luthor. Therefore, she would look into seeing if there was any record of Rat’s younger brother at the Luthor House, difficult as that would be without Rat’s proper name. Since Rat had spent time at the House, he should be in a record or file somewhere.

Thirdly, she wanted to check in with Denny and possibly interview his older brother Jack. She was curious about that ‘solitary confinement’ cell that Denny had mentioned.

Unfortunately, switching to the Luthor House meant the loss of her newfound friendship… well, acquaintanceship with Bobby. Seeing his smiling face every evening somehow always gave Lois hope that she would make it through with her sanity intact. That and the man was a fountain of information as he gobbled up the treats she brought him. Bobby had more trivia locked into that brain of his than Superman did. Okay, maybe not Superman, but most everyone else. Additionally, the man was on her side, which since her investigation began, had been in short supply.

The other compromise Lois made, unwillingly, was Nigel’s near-constant company. He picked her up in the mornings and took her to LNN. He brought her lunch. He drove her to all the press conferences at city hall, which was the desk she currently worked at after her ‘mishap’ in Suicide Slum.

“It’s only until you’re recovered,” Lex said through the lips of her boss News Director Robertson.

Bull hockey! It felt worse than being in Perry’s doghouse.

Then about four in the afternoon, Nigel would drive her to Luthor House for Homeless Children to work on mind-numbing paperwork, i.e. press releases, until six at which time he drove her home. Sometimes, she would change and then Nigel would drive her to Lex’s penthouse for dinner and, on rare occasions, she would be allowed to remain at home and eat dinners supplied to her from Lex’s private chef. No frozen microwave dinners or take-out for her anymore.

‘Yippy,’ Lois thought with very little enthusiasm.

What she would be willing to do to get a night with Clark eating pizza and watching movies, among other things, or even having a halfway intelligent conversation… well, she didn’t even want to finish that thought.

Her lack of freedom in all regards made her appreciate Clark more with every moment she was forced to endure it and without him. At least, Lex wasn’t picking out her clothes every morning… yet. Although, he had sent her a dress to wear to some function with the LexCorp Board that coming weekend.

The morning after Lex had blown up the Daily Planet or DP-Day as she referred to it in her mind, a delivery van arrived and, with Nigel’s approval, a new treadmill was set up in Lois’s apartment. Swell. Another gift from her fiancé that she couldn’t reject. No more jogs through the park to meet with her contact at S.T.A.R. Labs. Apparently, running outside was only for people who weren’t likely to be kidnapped, wearing a ring that would feed several hundred families for a year, or who needed to avoid the police.

A week later, after another frustrating shift at the Luthor House, where she had been – apparently – forbidden to speak with the children, she arrived home to a rare blissful and quiet evening to herself.

The day had been doubly frustrating, because the best she could do to change Lex’s mind about Jimmy’s guilty status was to convince him that the kid at least deserved better legal counsel than a public defender. Unfortunately, Lex thought this meant he should send over the worst lawyer in Bender’s arsenal. The idiot… and Lois was really trying to be kind… who Lex found to represent her during her stint in jail and who had tried to blackmail Mayson Drake on her behalf, had been sent gift wrapped from her to Jimmy. The man only recommended that Jimmy plead ‘guilty’ in hopes of a reduced sentence. Jimmy promptly fired him.

So much for her trying to help her friend from inside the enemy’s lair. She’d be lucky if Jimmy ever spoke to her again.

Lex had been overly attentive this past week, insisting that they dine together almost every night. Regrettably, Lois’s fiancé kept her well occupied and never left her alone with opportunity to sneak into his office. He also made sure to introduce her to his world by taking her to one concert, two cocktail parties, and one silent charity auction.

Oh, the joy.

At least, at the charity auction Lois had happily bumped into Superman. Fine. She had seen him across a crowded room and wished he could read her mind as she undressed him with her eyes. Unfortunately, duty called and Superman left less than two minutes later. Lex had teased her that he thought the Man of Steel must be avoiding them for some reason.

Gee, Lex, could it be all your attempts to kill him? Lois wanted to ask, but stubbornly refrained by holding her tongue… wedged between her clenched teeth.

Therefore, repeatedly, she politely hung off Lex’s arm, as an excuse to listen in on all his mind-numbing conversations with Metropolis’s other bigwigs in hopes of learning something… anything worth knowing about Lex, his not-so-honest business dealings, or anything else of importance.

These people conducted so many conversations about nothing, absolutely nothing! Didn’t they know that the purpose of conversing was to learn something new about the world, themselves, each other, or anything? Her lack of opportunity to bite into anything juicy was making her Mad Dog canines go soft.

She had to hand it to Cat. The society circuit took a set of abilities that Lois, frankly, didn’t wish to hone. For one, the ability to drink multiple drinks every night without becoming a lush like her mother. Secondly, the knack to feign interest in people and subjects the likes of which no one with a brain could find interesting whatsoever, rather than speak what was on one’s mind. Thirdly, the power to smile prettily when one only wanted to strangle her date. Sure, Lois had these talents to a degree, but to drag them out night after night after boring night was trying even her patience. Yawnsville. Why would anyone want to live this life?

If Lois didn’t know in her gut, and Clark’s, that Luthor was a bad egg, she would start to have doubts and guess he was nothing but a legit businessman. His dual life was that solid.

Having dumped the carton with the healthy low-calorie meal prepared for her by Lex’s chef on the dining room table, sight unseen, Lois relaxed on her blue comfy sofa. She ran her fingers over the soft fabric, and remembered why she bought it. After she had gotten to know Clark and the opportunity to spend some time at his apartment, she had realized that she wanted a soft place to snuggle up with him instead of her hard decorative furniture which reminded her too much of Luthor and his decorator’s sense of style. Lois kicked off her high heels, and made the decision to double her efforts to access Lex’s private files... tomorrow. He must have kept something in his office on paper, which would fry his bacon.

She noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor that someone must have slipped under the door. Had she kicked it across the room upon entering? Had someone sent her a note?

Clark.

Lois’s heart began to race.

No, it couldn’t be from Clark. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to send her a note in her fishbowl, would he?

She went to retrieve the paper and noticed it was a flyer for a new restaurant: Signore Carlo’s di Prim’ordine Pizzeria. Her stomach grumbled and her lips dampened with desire. Pizza.

“‘Every kind of pizza in the world imaginable from New York style, Chicago deep dish, gourmet Californian, Hawaiian, to pizza napoletana. White sauce, red sauce, pesto sauce. Thick, thin, stuffed, or whole-wheat crust. You imagine it; we’ll make it. Call today!’” Lois read aloud. “‘Hot deliveries made in thirty minutes or less guaranteed, or the pizza is on us.’”

It went on to state that there was a ‘grand opening special’ of a free box of cannoli with every order.

Lois decided she couldn’t resist those terms. She went to her kitchen telephone and dialed the pizzeria’s number. Unfortunately, the line was busy. No surprise with such a deal. With regret, she dropped the flyer on her kitchen counter and popped open the meal from Lex’s chef. There was a skinless chicken breast with steamed rice and vegetables. How bland.

Okay, she knew it wouldn’t be that bad, but for once, she wanted something sinful and caloric.

Her phone rang and she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Darling, why didn’t you tell me you were engaged? And to Lex Luthor to boot?” Lois’s mother, the evil-incarnate Ellen Lane said.

“Hi, Mom,” Lois replied, shutting the carton of food again. “Our engagement hasn’t been formally announced yet.”

“I’m your mother!” Ellen screeched, causing Lois to pull the receiver away from her ear. “You should have telephoned me that night or the next morning, instead of making me read about it in the Metropolis Star!”

“The Metropolis Star is a rag, Mother.”

“I know that, dear, but with the Daily Planet gone, it’s really the only newspaper in town. And what should I find in today’s Announcements section? Your wedding announcement!”

“My what?” Lois gasped. Lex hadn’t. Not without informing her, had he? She bet he had. And in the Metropolis Star too. How humiliating. Why not just shoot her?

“Your wedding announcement. We have a lot of planning to do if we’re going to have the wedding of the century.”

Lovely.

“I’m assuming your father is footing the bill,” Ellen said in that sour tone she used whenever Sam Lane was mentioned.

“Truthfully, Mother, I…” Am never going to marry this Bedlamite. She covered her pause by clearing her throat. “Daddy’s never really forgiven Lex for shooting me last summer.”

“But, darling, that was an accident. Surely, your father knows that,” her mother went on. “You told him, didn’t you?”

Good thing her mother didn’t hold grudges against creepy billionaires who caused Lois insufferable pain, agony, and humiliation or this wedding would never get off the ground. “Daddy and I aren’t really on speaking terms at the moment,” Lois said, thankful for minor miracles.

“You told him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Mother. I told him that Lex was aiming at Max Menken and only shot me by mistake, but you know Daddy…” Lois said, leaving that thought hanging.

“Ugh! Do I ever! It’s probably best that he isn’t coming. Who knows what sort of tart he’d drag in as his date,” her mother went on.

Lois rolled her eyes, yet still agreed completely.

“Well, I guess I could foot the bill, but it certainly won’t be the wedding of the century that the announcement promises. I have no idea how I’ll accomplish everything in two months,” Ellen rambled on. “But a mother has to do what a mother has to do.”

“Two months? Mother, what are you talking about?”

“It says right here. Oh, where did I put that paper?” Ellen said.

Lois heard papers rustling and the distinctive clink of a bottle of some kind of liquor and she hoped her mother only imagined the announcement in her drunken stupor.

“Here it is! ‘Lex Luthor and Lois Lane, both of Metropolis, New Troy, recently engaged this spring, formally announce that their wedding will be held on Saturday, June 18, 1994. Both wedding and reception will be held at Lex Tower’s conference center.’ It doesn’t sound very good or romantic but you once told me, when I asked why you didn’t cover weddings, that newspapers put their greenest writers on the nuptials and obit beats, and this being the Metropolis Star…” More wasn’t needed to be said. “So, when do I get to meet your intended?”

Never. “He’s very busy, Mother. I’ll have to check his schedule and mine,” Lois replied. Anyway, at the moment, Lex was probably incommunicado being that he never discussed with her a date for their wedding. For heaven’s sake, they had only just become engaged and he had to know she certainly wouldn’t agree to a wedding in two months! She was tempted to tell her mother that the wedding had been canceled because the bridegroom was taking the bride for granted. “And get back with you.”

“Well, I am going to a retreat in May, so we better schedule it soon, dearie. Kisses!” Ellen said, signing off.

‘Retreat’ was her mother’s word for ‘rehab’. Maybe Lois would luck out and the clinic wouldn’t release Ellen until after they had Lex safely secured behind bars. She could only dream. She pictured Lex standing in a cell at the Twelfth Precinct, disheveled, and holding onto the cold iron bars. The police had taken his tie, fancy watch, cufflinks, and tacky pinky ring and put them in a bag awaiting his release. Lois’s smile grew as she pictured a couple of uniformed cops dragging her kicking and screaming mother in the holding block and shutting her in the cell with Lex. Now, that would be justice.

Lois’s gaze fell on the carton with her dinner and she sneered. A burst of color caught her attention from out of the corner of her eye. It was the flyer for the pizzeria: Signore Carlo’s di Prim’ordine Pizzeria.

She picked up her phone and dialed. This time someone answered after one ring.

“Signore Carlo’s di Prim’ordine Pizzeria. Carlo speaking,” answered a very masculine, very sexy, Italian voice. “What kind of pizza would you like tonight? Your wish is my command.”

An image of Clark talking to her in Italian flashed before her eyes and she licked her lips. “What’s good?”

He chuckled. “For you, bella, everything’s good.”

Well, that wasn’t helpful. “What’s that one with cheese and tomatoes?”

“Margherita, pizza napoletana perhaps, or if you’re in Napoli, pizza romana,” Carlo said.

“Oh, yes, that one. Pizza romana,” she said, loving how the syllables rolled off her tongue. “The pizza of romance.”

Carlo laughed again. “Actually, the pizza of Roma, but close enough. Would you like anything to drink with that?”

“No, nothing, but don’t forget my cannoli,” Lois reminded him. “The flyer said they’re free.”

“For you, bella, how could I forget? Do you want to be filled with crema or cioccolato?”

Lois leaned against her counter, as her knees became fluid. Even chocolate sounded better in Italian. “Say that again,” she whispered, her voice deepening. There was just something sexy about Carlo’s Italian accent. She tried to remind herself that he was probably a sixty-year-old man with a potbelly and a comb over, but when he spoke, he could mesmerize the stars. She fantasized that it was Clark speaking Italian to her while taking her out for gelato in Capri.

“Crema o cioccolato, bella? Cream or chocolate filled?” he said.

“Cioccolato, Carlo,” Lois practically purred over the line.

“Address?”

Lois gave him her address and phone number.

“You sound like a nice girl, bella. I send my handsome son to bring you the pie,” Carlo said.

Lois bolted straight up. Lex was watching and listening. Maybe not right now, but she was sure he’d scan the tapes at some point. “You better send the ugly one, Carlo. My fiancé might get jealous.”

“Oh, engaged. Too bad. You have a nice voice. I send the ugly americano, then,” Carlo said. “Ciao, bella.”

Lois laughed, hanging up the phone. She stepped over to her microwave and set the timer for thirty minutes.

Those two minutes between when her timer went off and someone knocked on her door seemed to take forever. She glanced out the peephole and saw a tall man, whose face she still couldn’t see through the brim of his baseball cap and his mess of frizzy blond hair. He was holding out a big flat square cardboard box with a white paper bag sitting on top.

“Hey, lady!” a man’s Bronx accent called through the door. “Pizza!”

Lois turned to grab her wallet, and then remembered her pizza was free. “Coming!” She opened the door and the scent of pizza wafted over her, causing her stomach to growl.

“Sorry about the delay. There was some meathead on the front stoop, who wanted to play twenty questions with me before he’d let me enter. Oh, and he stole a slice of your pizza, saying he had to taste test it for you,” the delivery guy grumbled. “So, it’s free.”

“I’m sorry about that. My fiancé is a tad over-protective,” Lois said, wishing that her evening bodyguard wasn’t a reject from Menken’s stables. “I’ll pay.” She turned to grab her purse.

“Don’t worry about it. My last customer ordered diet soda, and Carlo thought he said cream soda, so I ended up having to stop by the store and buy ‘em the right stuff and that made me late. Carlo’s big on leaving the customer satisfied.” The guy held up the six-pack of diet cream soda with his other hand. “I’ll toss it in for free, too, if you want it.”

Lois pretended to hem-and-haw over accepting her favorite soda. “Well, so you don’t have to carry it back to Carlo.” She held out her hand, and he set the pizza box down on it. “You can set the soda on the table there,” she said, nodding to the side table beside the door.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re not allowed to enter anyone’s apartment or house,” the delivery guy said. “Carlo’s orders.”

Ma’am?

“Carlo must run a tight ship,” Lois said, setting down the pizza and cannoli bag on the side table in order to take the soda.

As he lifted up the soda, he raised his chin just enough to catch her gaze. She was looking straight into the eyes of Superman… well, Superman with shaggy blond hair, baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, and a green windbreaker. “That he does,” he nodded, still talking to her in that Bronx accent. “And he believes in recycling,” he added, pointing at her. “Nothing bothers Carlo more than reports of stacks of pizza boxes left all over a living room, so you better take out the trash as soon as you’re done.” He tipped the brim of his cap and backed into the hall.

“Wait! I should give you a tip,” Lois insisted, for probably the first time in her life.

Clark beamed at her. “Mighty nice of you, ma’am, but order from Signore Carlo’s again and that’ll be tip enough.”

She leaned against the doorframe. “I’d say ‘yes’ due to the customer service alone, but really I’ve got to try the pizza first.”

“It’s the best pie you’ve ever tasted. You’ll swear it came from Rome itself, you will,” Clark said, waving his hand and walking down the hall.

It took every ounce of her effort not to run after him or even watch him go. She shook her head and shut the door, thinking she better add something in for Lex. “Sweet kid, but Carlo was right. He’s no looker.”

She chuckled to herself and took her meal paid for by Clark over to her table. Flipping up the lid of the pizza box, the hot steam of pizza filled her nostrils, causing her to moan again. She slid into her seat, opened a can of soda, and took a glance inside the cannoli bag. There was a note written on the inside in pencil.

Don’t forget to take out the trash when you’re done.

It was a date.

***

After dropping off Lois’s dinner, Clark walked out of her building and over to Jimbo’s waiting motorcycle, which he had borrowed for the occasion. He drove off down Carter Avenue in full view of Lois’s warden. The man was thick on muscle, thin on brain matter, and big on self-importance. Pulling into the alley beside his Clinton Street apartment building, Clark glanced around and then lifted the bike and himself into the air. There was no safer parking space for the bike in his neighborhood than his back patio. He would return the motorcycle to Jimbo after his meeting with Lois. That was if she got his message and understood his hint.

Then, Clark traded out the windbreaker for his leather jacket and tossed the blond wig and baseball cap he’d picked up at a second-hand store downtown earlier in the day onto his bed. Without bothering to switch into his brightly colored uniform, he grabbed his glasses and flew back to Lois’s building in time to hear her still moaning with delight over the pizza he’d picked out for her. He smiled at having brought her that little bit of pleasure. He doubted she had eaten anything in the way of guilty pleasures since becoming the future Mrs. Luthor.

After Superman had bumped into Lois and Lex at the charity auction the previous night, and Lois had gazed at him with unrestrained desire, he felt the need to duck out of the event early. Anyway, he had told himself, if Lex Luthor still thought Lois’s engagement ring was covered with Kryptonite, it would be a good idea for Superman not to hang around to be “exposed” to the thing. Maybe Clark would luck out and Luthor would think Superman left early due to the ring and not his fiancée’s heated gaze.

With Lois and Luthor safely in a well-populated charity event, it gave Clark ample opportunity to do a more thorough scan of Lois’s building and apartment without being caught by Lois’s security detail. Without violating anyone’s privacy, Superman scanned the halls, stairwells, and roof for any more of Luthor’s surveillance cameras and microphones. The only new one he found was above Lois’s apartment door, so that the billionaire could see who was visiting his fiancée.

Prior to Clark landing softly on the roof, he once more scanned Lois’s building to make sure Luthor’s goons hadn’t added any new security cameras in the last twenty-four hours. Then he stole inside via the roof door. He walked one floor down and waited just on the other side of the stairwell door. He could easily see Lois should she take her trash to the chute, as well as anyone else who might arrive by elevator.

Ten minutes later, Lois carried the pizza box and the empty cannoli bag to the trash chute. Quietly, Clark opened the door and gave a wave. Lois joined him in the stairwell, her arms entangled around his neck before the door had even shut.

“Are we…?” she hesitated.

“I checked for cameras. There aren’t any,” he replied, resting his hand in the low of her back so that his arms encircled her.

“Mmmmm. I love you,” she whispered between kisses, pulling him closer. “And this look as opposed to your blond dude. Although…” She tilted up his glasses and then let them drop back to his nose. “I could get used to looking at you without these things blocking my view of your eyes all the time.”

He smiled. His lips were too busy to remind her of the multiple purposes of the glasses, though.

“Pizza, cream soda, and chocolate cookies. You really know how to woo a woman.” She drew back and eyed him skeptically. “Either that or you’ve done something and want my forgiveness.”

“I thought you could use a break,” he murmured, pulling her back into his embrace. Moreover, he needed a pick-me-up after seeing her wedding announcement in the Metropolis Star’s afternoon edition. “Mmmm. You taste like chocolate.”

Lois instantly stepped three paces back and would have fallen down the stairs, if he hadn’t caught her. Her hand covered her mouth as her eyes widened. “Oh, Chuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think. I should have brushed my teeth. But who brushes their teeth before taking out the trash? Lex would have thought that suspicious. Are you…?” Her brows lowered into scrutiny as she stared at him. “You’re not running off to throw up.”

Clark blushed sheepishly. “Um… No. No, I’m not. After chocolate binging during my amnesia, I discovered a way to separate the memories of my…” He cleared his throat. “Separate my bad memories from eating sweets. I’m still not a huge fan of them, but it doesn’t send me bolting for the… uh… door. Just to play it safe, though, let’s leave roasting marshmallows off the list.”

“That’s wonderful, Chuck,” she said, beaming at him as she wrapped her arms around him, again. “I’ve missed you.”

“Same here, minha.”

“We have so much to catch up on,” she murmured.

“Yes. Yes, we do,” he said, a running list of discussion points buzzing through his mind. “But not tonight. If you’re gone too long, it’s possible your cyborg assassin from the future might notice and come searching for you.”

“Daddy builds assassins in the future?” Lois asked vaguely between kisses.

“Just a movie. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, right,” she murmured, her fingers dancing over his lips. “Who’s Carlo?”

Clark laughed. “I am, bella,” he answered in Carlo’s deeper tone. “Clark, Chuck, Charlie, Charles, Carlo…” Carlos. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you first called,” he said. “I was helping with a traffic accident.” He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket. “It has an unlisted number, untraceable. Perry knows a guy who may or may not have been in the NIA.”

Lois laughed. “And here I thought I was flirting with an old man,” she replied, replacing her fingers on his mouth with her lips.

Suddenly, Clark found all his negative retorts about Luthor’s age drifting away, followed by the thoughts of his twin in clerical garb.

“Anyway,” Clark said, trying to concentrate on his checklist for this ‘date’. He slipped the phone into her hand. “I bought two phones. This one is yours, in case you need to make a call without someone listening.”

“But…” She took the phone and looking down her own body for a place to hide it, probably so Lex wouldn’t see it when she returned to her apartment. “Never mind. I’ll find a way.” Finally, she lifted up the hem of her blouse and tucked the phone into her pants.

His checklist completed, Clark returned to the task at hand of imprinting his lips upon Lois’s. His hand rested on her hip by the phone, which allowed his thumb easy access to the loose hem of her shirt and the skin underneath.

Her hand caressed his cheek, down his jaw, throat, clavicle, chest, stomach…

“Lex.”

Clark felt as if she threw him against an iceberg floating in the Arctic Sea. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t… I didn’t mean… I want to stay with you, Chuck, but it’s already taken me way too long to dump my trash. Next time… um…” Her hands trailed up his chest and back down again. “Sunday night? Let’s meet in the laundry room,” she suggested, setting her hand on the doorknob. “Then we can compare notes.”

“Like about the fact that you’re getting married in two months?” he said wryly.

“Or the fact that I might be throwing this ring in Luthor’s face for submitting that announcement without informing me first. Maybe you should keep a close eye on me over the next few days to make sure I don’t end up killing the man,” Lois snapped, yanking open the door.

Clark set his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t go away mad.”

She paused and let the door slip out of her fingers as she relaxed back into his touch and then against his chest. “I’m mad at him, not you. I never wanted this to go on so long.”

“At least, now, we have a deadline.”

Lois groaned.

“Are you covering Luthor’s press conference about the Planet tomorrow?” he asked.

“When is it?” she asked.

“Two.”

“I’m meeting him at 11:30 for lunch. I’ll make sure that I’m there,” she said, setting her hand on his arm encircling her torso. “Thank you. I needed this.”

He had thought that she might. “Just a reminder of what you’re missing,” he teased.

“Very funny,” Lois said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to have any more cannoli on you, big boy?” She licked her lips and started to pat him down inside his jacket. “I’d love to try me some cream filling.”

Clark swallowed.

“Probably for the best,” she whispered huskily into his ear before kissing him gently. “I shouldn’t return to the apartment with cream filling on my lips, anyway. Lex might get the wrong idea.” With a wink, she passed through the doorway, leaving him speechless in the stairwell.

Ten paces towards her apartment, Lois murmured, “You do realize I was only talking pastries, right?” She laughed, and then added, this time he was sure to herself, “Always leave ‘em wanting more.”

That she had. That she had.

***End of Part 162***

Part 163

Many apologies for anyone offended by Lois's cannoli innuendo. I couldn't resist. Feel free to throw tomatoes at me on my Comments page.

Signore Carlo’s di Prim’ordine Pizzeria very loosely translates to "Lord Carlo's Super Pizzeria."

"cyborg assassin from the future" is, of course, a reference to The Terminator Movies , the second of which was released in 1991 and I'm sure introduced to Alt-Clark by Jimbo or Jimmy at some point.