Table of Contents Many thanks to all the faithful readers who have left words of encouragement along the way. I especially thank those who helped me make this a better work. (Classicalla, your fashion sense is much better than mine.)
Hope you enjoy.
Previously, on Part 22:
“You go stargazing, hiking and camping in the wetlands every Friday night? Really?”
With her voice heavy with criticism, she obviously wasn’t asking a legitimate question. She was making fun of him—calling his idea of entertainment disagreeable. Yet there was something about being in the doghouse with Lois that set Clark on edge. When he finally won her over, he didn’t want to have any regrets. It was rash, probably foolhardy, but he impulsively made a decision.
“No,” he admitted.
“Excuse me?” She looked annoyed and confused.
“You asked if I really go stargazing, hiking and camping in the wetlands every Friday night. No, I don’t.”
“Well, then why do you… Where do you…”
Clark grinned. Lois Lane was rarely, if ever, caught flat-footed.
“Where do I go? If I ever decide to tell someone, you’ll be the first to know,” he promised. “But not yet.”
“You don’t really think that’s going to work with me. Do you? I’m an investigative journalist. I’ll investigate. And I’m going to find out exactly what you’re doing. I promise you that.”
“Go ahead and try,” he challenged her. “In the meantime, I’m going to have a spare key made up tonight. I’ll drop it off for you tomorrow. Use it; don’t use it. It’s your choice. But you’re welcome to stay, study… help yourself to whatever is in the fridge.”
Lois had her mouth half-open to turn him down when a gentle voice interrupted. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
It was the cheap blonde Clark had been talking to back on the courthouse steps. One look at his face and Lois’s mind was made up. Her friendship with Clark was way too complicated. One minute he was asking her out, the next he was stealing credit for her work, and in the very next breath he was admitting to being a liar. She sighed. He could have the blonde. She was out of there.
While his attention was diverted, she took the opportunity to slip back down the hallway. She had a lot to think about.
And now, Part 23:
_______________
“Can I help you, Miss Drake?”
“Mayson,” she reminded him.
“Mayson. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I’m sorry about canceling out on you earlier. When I got there, I found that I wasn’t the only one from my office that had been assigned to that case. So if you’re still available…?” She left off in a silent question.
“Yeah, sure. I’m available. Just let me finish a few things,” he requested.
But when he looked around he saw that Lois had wandered off to her desk. He excused himself to go find her. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but I really need to give this deposition.”
Lois barely glanced up as she told him, “No problem. I understand.”
“You can’t imagine how vital this is,” Mayson informed Lois. Clark smiled blandly, although he was a little annoyed at the way the DA had followed him and inserted herself into a private conversation. “We know that the perpetrator which committed the arson is a member of a local gang. We believe that gang has ties to organized crime. So we need to move quickly on this. Not just for Clark’s safety, but we’re also hoping that if we act fast and put a lot of pressure on the kid we can flip him. It’s not likely that he’ll testify against the leaders of his own gang, but hopefully we can get something on the organized crime boss.” Lois nodded with disinterest. “So if you would be willing to excuse Clark for the afternoon,” Mayson continued, “you would be doing a favor not only to the city of Metropolis, but even beyond the borders of New Troy.”
Clark struggled to stifle a grin. The idea of working for Lois was laughable, even if she was talented. With a tiny desk in the far back of the newsroom, there was no way she looked at all like a supervisor--unless you took into account her commanding presence and editor-like scowl.
Lois caught his eye. Her earlier irritation seemed to have faded into the mist. He could tell she was silently deciding how she wanted to play this one out. “I understand,” she carefully told Mayson before turning her attention fully to Clark. “I suppose I could spare you for one afternoon. But hurry back,” she instructed him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he politely agreed. He smiled at Mayson and led her away from the newsroom straight-faced.
But he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as Lois called after him, “And no monkey business.”
~*~
Lois waited until she was sure that Clark and the hussy were completely out of the bullpen before casually walking over to where Jimmy was working. She chatted idly with him for a few minutes, trying to get herself in his good graces before making her request. “I need your help on something.”
“Sure, whatever,” Jimmy agreed as quickly as always.
“I want you to teach me that little trick I saw you do a couple of weeks back.”
“Trick?” He looked genuinely confused.
“The one with the little wire in the lock,” she reminded him.
“Oh, that. You mean when Angela pushed the button to lock the filing cabinet with the key already inside? That was nothing,” he told her, but his chest puffed out as he continued, this time with a touch more bragging. “Some locks are harder than others, of course, but that little thing was easy.”
“Where did you learn?” she gushed, hoping that by feeding his ego she would soon have him eating out of her hand.
“Reform school,” he whispered. “It was a bum rap, but I learned a lot of useful things there.” He glanced around the room nervously before offering. “You want me to show you?”
Lois was a quick study and Jimmy was an able teacher. While she certainly couldn’t say she had mastered the technique, by the time he went home for the day she was able to get into her fair share of locks, if she was persistent enough.
She waited until the office cleared out before she set about her real work for the evening. Clark Kent had a secret, and she was bound and determined to discover what it was.
She started in Personnel. With patience and a few wrong turns she was finally able to break into the right filing cabinet in the right office.
She discovered that his previous address was in a place called Smallville, Kansas. It figured. He had small town, Midwest written all over him. Everything she read led her to believe that he was an all-around good guy.
What she didn’t find was answers. There was no wife hidden away somewhere. No prison term. Nothing that hinted about where ‘Mr. Secretive’ spent his weekends.
No matter. She hadn’t truly expected to find the answers on her first night looking. But she would find his secret if it was the last thing she did.
~*~
It was late on Saturday night before Lois finally found herself at Clark’s apartment. She had sworn to herself that she wasn’t coming. But if he was truly out of town, then what did it hurt to eat a little of his food?
And study, of course. Tomorrow morning she was going to hit the books in peace and quiet.
But tonight, she wanted nothing more than a full eight hours of dear, sweet sleep. She slipped into a camisole and her most comfortable blue plaid pajama pants before turning back the sheets on his queen-sized bed.
It felt a little awkward to sleep there, though. The place just reminded her a little too much of Clark. What if he returned in the middle of the night and joined her? She scurried out of bed and jogged over to the kitchen. It took a bit of jiggling, but she managed to prop a chair securely under the front door’s knob.
She felt silly as she climbed back into bed. If Clark had wanted to take advantage of her, he would have done it the last time she had visited. She remembered trying to tug him into the bedroom, but he was an immovable force in his resistance of her charms.
Lois stared at the ceiling, willing her dreams to overtake her. Unfortunately, only daydreams tickled her mind. The last time she had slept in this bed, it had an aroma that was distinctly masculine—just musky enough to remind her that a man slept there, but not enough to smell dirty. Tonight it smelled like a spring-fresh fabric softener. Surprisingly, she was a little disappointed.
After forty minutes or so without sleep, she gave up and padded into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and perused its contents. Maybe some warm milk would ease her into the land of nod.
It wasn’t milk in the fridge that caught her fancy, though. It was the fudge ripple ice cream in the freezer. Had she been in her own apartment she would have enjoyed a little something-something right out of the carton with one of her big soup spoons, but she couldn’t be that rude to Clark. She opened cabinet after cabinet and drawer after drawer before she discovered the proper spoons and bowls to dish it up, and then she leaned against the counter to enjoy.
It was well worth the effort. This was premium fare, even to an aficionado with a discerning palate, like herself. She moaned in delight at the first taste.
But that brought back memories, as well. This was the counter where she had pinned Clark during his ‘emergency’ phone call. Not that she had used any force, mind you. The feel of her leg against his thigh was all that it took to hold him captive.
Hanging up the phone had been her favorite part. His reach for the cradle had left his arms wide open. She had seized the opportunity, slipping in against the expanse of his chest and claiming his lips for herself. He had immediately surrendered. She had touched the edge of his soul in that kiss—sweetness, strength and fire mingled together.
But all too soon he had pulled away and gotten all noble on her.
She glanced down at her bowl, only to find that she had emptied it with her mind elsewhere. A pity.
But it wasn’t a total loss, since she had stumbled across Clark’s own, personal stash of Double Fudge Crunch Bars when she had been looking for a bowl. Perhaps studying at his apartment wouldn’t be so bad after all.
She cleaned up and headed back to bed, hoping upon hope that the night would be a dreamless one.
~*~
It was disconcerting to awaken to invasive silence. Lois lay completely still, assessing her situation. She wasn’t in the dorm, she was certain of that, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out where she was.
A photo on the bedside table showed a smiling couple that she didn’t recognize.
Then, it all came rushing back to her. Of course, it must be ‘Mr. Down-home Green-jeans’ parents. She was at Clark’s apartment. Obviously the photo was of his parents or grandparents. She wistfully picked it up, taking in every detail of the smiling couple displayed there.
Some guys had all the luck. He had talent, good looks and a family who cared about him--not to mention a large stash of Double Fudge Crunch Bars.
Her stomach growled angrily. Lois returned the photo to its home, noting with alarm as her hand brushed past the clock that the time was nearly ten o‘clock. There wasn’t time for a proper breakfast but she was too hungry to skip the meal, so she hurried to at least set up the coffee pot and throw in a piece of toast.
With the coffee brewing, she headed over to the front door. She sheepishly returned the chair to the kitchen before heading outside to look for the newspaper. Nothing. Clark liked the personal touch, so he probably had a favorite newsstand where he could shoot the breeze while he picked up a copy.
She grumped to the kitchen and poured a mug of the strong, bitter brew. As she sat down with her toast, she spied the newspaper peaking from the top of her handbag and pulled it out. Uggh. It was six days out-of-date. But old news was better than no news.
She breezed through the headlines, trying to find something that wasn’t so behind-the-times that it still interested her. Finally her eyes rested upon that awful story—the one where Clark had stolen credit from her. She had never actually read the dreadful thing. The worst part was that it probably wasn’t dreadful at all. He was a very talented writer, if only he weren’t so complacent about that touchy-feely stuff. And so willing to steal credit, of course.
With nothing better to do, Lois found herself reading. And there it was as plain as day, “By Lois Lane and Clark Kent.”
She was ashamed. Clark hadn’t given her the tag ending that he’d promised her, “With special assistance from Lois Lane.” He’d given her equal billing. Her first headline in the States.
But why did he tell her he was going to give her a mention at the end of the story if he planned all along to give her equal or even top billing? He was setting her up. She felt stupid.
But that wasn’t fair either. It was just as likely that he didn’t want to get her hopes up, just in case the editors didn’t go for his idea.
She thought back over how temperamental she’d been with him this week. Some friend she had been. And he had been kind enough to let her stay at his place while he was gone.
~*~
She was here. Clark could feel it in his bones. It put a spring in his step as he climbed the stairs.
He remembered the feeling he had when he had visited Lois in her dorm as she was preparing for an evening with Luthor. She had been beautiful… excited and exciting. She was always vivacious, and it had radiated from her as she had prepared for her work that night.
Now she was here, in his own home. Of course she wasn’t getting all gussied up, like she had for the big interview. But she was gorgeous no matter what she was wearing.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and knocked on the door.
Lois wasn’t sure what she should do. It wasn’t her home. It wasn’t right for her to play the part of the little woman and open the door. But it wasn’t like the answering machine was going to take a message. She climbed the stairs and answered the door.
“Clark?” She looked around in surprise. “What are you doing knocking on your own door?”
He looked uncharacteristically timid. “I didn’t want you to feel like I was barging in on you after I told you I wasn’t going to be home all weekend.”
Lois laughed. “It’s Sunday night. I didn’t expect you to be gone forever.” She gave Clark a strange look. “You are going to come in, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I’m going to come in.” He hesitated. It was kind of nice standing next to her in the close confines of the doorway. “How was your studying?”
“Great. It was just great. I got a lot done. Tons and tons,” she nervously reported, thinking back to all the wasted time she had spent daydreaming and remembering—or even worse, the many hours she had lost looking for clues as to where he went every weekend. Perhaps it would be best if she just changed the subject as they descended the stairs together. “How was your hiking?”
Clark grinned to her annoyance. He obviously was enjoying his little secret, but she was sure to find him out sooner or later.
“It was as good, as always,” he reported.
“You ought to take me along sometime,” she suggested, coyly.
He shook his head. “You couldn’t handle it.” Her glare was so worth every dig. Still, the night was young and he didn’t want her to get too riled up. “Remember; you’re not even up to a little date among friends. You certainly wouldn’t want to commit to an entire weekend with me…” His eyes held her captive as he closed the space between them. “…just the two of us… alone in the woods.”
Lois shook her head and took a step back, trying in vain to control her heart as it pounded wildly and her mind as it wandered back down the roads it had lingered in for two days. “I can handle you, Kent,” she challenged him, much to her chagrin, in a shaky voice.
Clark took the hint and led them back into a safer conversation. “So all that hiking in the woods has worked up a real appetite.”
“I bet,” she drolly remarked.
“You want to stay for awhile? I cook up a mean pasta con aspargi.”
“You want to cook for me? Now that’s something I surely can’t handle.”
“As a friend,” he clarified.
“Of course, as a friend,” she confirmed.
It gave him hope. She was finally giving him a foot in the door. “Well, you know the alternative.” Her eyebrows raised in confusion. He pressed forward boldly. “We could go out—as friends, I suppose. I know I said I wouldn’t ask you on dates for awhile…”
“You promised,” Lois reminded him, with a toothy grin. She didn’t look like she was running scared this time. Definitely a good sign.
“That was so last week,” Clark interjected. They had obviously become a lot closer over the past week. Just one week ago they were writing their first story together. Since then, he had helped her to maintain her dignity while practically naked, had helped her as she went solo for the first time at The Planet, and had provided a safe haven for her to spend a quiet weekend studying. Certainly that was progress not even Lois could deny.
“But it was still a promise.”
Still he just couldn’t let it go--not without even asking. “So, I suppose, it would be out of the question to…”
“No.”
“Was that in Spanish?” Clark teased. She might have turned him down, but her voice still held a light, cordial tone. So the answer was ‘no’ to the date, but not to the friendship.
“Italian, this time,” she corrected him.
“I should have known” he joked. “So why not?”
She shrugged and then wandered down to the sofa and nestled among the cushions. It warmed his heart to see how much she felt at home in his apartment.
He followed her into the living room and debated where the best place was to sit--in the chair across from her where he could best make eye contact or on the couch next to her where his knee could accidentally bump hers. He sat on the couch.
“I knew a nice guy once,” she remarked casually. “We were just friends, but only because it was a very busy time of my life.”
He nodded noncommittally, unsure of where her story was leading. He shifted a bit to the left so their knees would touch. She didn’t seem to notice, so he began plotting his next move.
She stared into space as she continued. “He was always inviting me places. ‘Let’s go out for coffee,’ or, ‘Feel like lunch?’ I would have gone, but he just had lousy timing. We used to laugh about that.”
She paused long enough that it got his attention. It was out of character for her to be this melancholy, especially as she reminisced about happy times in her life. He chastised himself for his inconsideration. He listened better to the total strangers he interviewed than he did to Lois, his purported friend.
“So did it ever work out between you two?” he asked, slipping into his best reporter mode.
“Sure.” She caught his eyes and shrugged. “Although I’m not sure that’s the best choice of words. Anyway, we had to make it a late night, but he finally convinced me to come over for the ‘best homemade pizza I’d ever eaten.’”
She glanced at him nervously. He smiled encouragingly. It didn’t bother him to hear about ex-boyfriends. She drew courage and continued.
“He put an action movie in the VCR and we snuggled on the couch to eat pizza.”
She lapsed into silence again.
“Not a bad first date,” Clark prompted.
She frowned in annoyance. “Don’t you get it, yet? When the movie ended, he raped me, Clark.”
His stomach lurched. “I never thought…” he stumbled. “I mean, I just sort of assumed it was a war thing.”
The life dimmed from her gaze as she flatly informed him, “No, it was just a nice guy. The boy next door with the brown eyes and the cleft chin. The guy who was everyone’s friend--he’s the one who raped me.”
There was something about the way she looked at him that made him feel defensive--that made him feel like pointing out that guys who are truly nice don’t rape women. But he supposed that was the point of every conversation that the two of them had ever had.
“Did he hurt you? Never mind, that was an idiotic question. Of course, he hurt you. He raped you. I meant, were you all right?” He grimaced as he realized that still was the wrong thing to ask.
She didn’t seem to notice. “I did everything you’re supposed to do: police, doctors, counselor… the whole nine yards. And when that didn’t work, I left the country.”
They sat in silence for what seemed like forever.
“I’m sorry,” Clark whispered past the lump in his throat.
She didn’t respond, but simply stared at images from memories long past.
He wasn’t quite sure what to say or do. Was he supposed to hug her, or was that way out of line? Silence reigned as he waited for a cue from her. He tried not to fidget, suddenly very aware of every hair that touched her knee.
She sighed and shook her head to clear it. “Clark, why did you give me a headline on that article we worked on together?”
His head spun as he tried to change mental gears that fast. “Because it was the right thing to do,” he said, knowing the answer was woefully incomplete.
She nodded, as if that explained everything. Perhaps, it was the answer she was expecting.
“You could have told me, so I would know where to look. So I wouldn’t make an idiot of myself thinking you were just another nice guy who set me up when I didn’t see my name at the bottom of the story.”
Suddenly, it clicked. She hadn’t changed the subject at all. She was just way ahead of him, as always.
“I hadn’t really thought it through until I was writing it up,” he explained. “And I didn’t realize you had a false impression.”
“What did you think? I was mad at you for nothing? Surely you noticed I was ticked off.”
He shrugged and inspected his shoes. He couldn’t possibly tell her what he was thinking. It didn’t seem right to point out that she always got annoyed with him when he let her know how attractive she was. Particularly not with the way the conversation had been going.
“Why did you turn me down when I came on to you last week? I know you weren’t affected by the pheromone, but you’re still a man.”
Now he truly didn’t know what to say. “Because it was the right thing to do,” he muttered. It had worked before so it was worth a shot.
She mustered her courage and went for broke. “Did you want me?”
“Of course,” he reassured her, “but not like that.”
Lois finally smiled. Perhaps the last of the demons had been slain—at least, for now. “The last time we had a conversation like this, you felt the need to counter with your deepest, darkest secret. Right?”
Clark narrowed his eyes as he nodded.
“So it’s your turn. Where did you go this weekend?” she pried.
“I still don’t think you can handle that,” he firmly told her.
“But you don’t mind giving hints. We could play Twenty Questions, since you don’t like Truth or Dare. Certainly you don’t mind answering a few questions since you are a reporter. Are you alone when you go?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer. He was alone when he went, but not when he arrived.
She didn’t miss a beat having discerned whatever she wanted to know simply from his poor excuse for a poker face. “Are you going to see a woman?”
He squirmed. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Yes or no, Clark. Answer the question.”
“How elderly do you have to be before you use a different term than just woman?” he inquired. “And if you’re seeing more than one person does it still count as a yes?”
“I didn’t know you were a lawyer in your past life,” she chided.
“Do you leave the city of Metropolis?”
“Yes.”
“Do you leave the state of New Troy?”
He fidgeted. “Yes.”
He tried, in vain, to change the subject. “Did you want something to drink? I’m parched.” He hurried from the room and pulled some glasses from the kitchen cupboard. She followed, hot on his tail.
“Iced tea? Soda? Anything?” he offered.
She had him right where she wanted him. A little more guilt just might put him over the edge. She went for the jugular, poking at the weakness every nice, small-town guy shared. “Does your mother know what you’re doing?”
His hands were starting to sweat.
A sharp rap on the door caused both of them to jump. Clark had to have been engrossed in the conversation, since it was extremely difficult to sneak up on him. Never one to let opportunity slide by, he practically sprinted to answer the door. “I wonder who that is,” he remarked as he took the steps in two big strides.
“Mayson,” Clark greeted her with a smile.
“I was in the neighborhood,” Mayson explained, “and thought we could go over some facts.”
“Sure, we could do that,” he quickly agreed, knowing why she wanted to get this case in court in such a hurry. He stepped aside to welcome her in, but she lingered at the bottom of the stairs. Clark leaned against the railing and answered her questions.
Lois watched the two of them converse, having apparently been forgotten in the kitchen. Actually, to be more accurate, he probably hadn’t forgotten her. No, he was shamelessly running away.
And Mayson was obviously happy to catch him. Lois had seen how the vixen had checked out Clark when he opened the door. Her eyes had brazenly run up and down his body like she was assessing a prize horse. Her body language, her tone of voice, the way she touched him… it was shocking and pitiful how she threw herself at him.
Clark didn’t seem to mind. Maybe it was those small-town manners. Maybe he was just a nice guy. But it annoyed Lois to watch what the poor man had to go through at the hands of that temptress.
Unless Clark really was attracted to the little vamp, Lois worried. But no, she had to believe him when he said that it was her he was attracted to.
Maybe it was time for Lois to rescue him. Maybe if she provided him with an excuse, he would find his way out from under Mayson’s claws.
But then again, Clark would probably hold her to whatever it was she offered him.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. He was a kind, good-looking guy, after all. But then again, that was his greatest downfall, as well. It was the pleasant, attractive ones that couldn’t be trusted.
So why was it that Lois gave him the time of day? She remembered back to how he had proven himself trustworthy on the job. He had given her more credit than she was due--okay, maybe she did deserve it, since his story was dead in the water without her input.
And he had proven himself trustworthy with her secrets, too--tending her wounds without airing her private laundry. She had given him a hard time about it, but it was nice to have someone that cared about her, for a change.
He cared about her enough not to take advantage of her, as well. He had to have been tempted. He had admitted that he wanted her. He liked her legs and her breasts, and she couldn’t remember his hands wandering down either avenue. Certainly she would have remembered that.
So what was it that she needed from Clark? What could he do that would make her feel safe around him? Aside from turning into a woman, there wasn’t a thing that came to mind—and that would certainly make him lose the appeal.
Lois glanced back at the way Mayson was pathetically throwing herself at Clark. The slut was virtually giddy as she gushed about what a great witness he would be and how brave he was. From what Lois had seen they hadn’t discussed anything that couldn’t have been handled in a phone call during regular business hours, so clearly the whole purpose of the meeting was to butter him up for some big come-on.
“I was wondering… Would you like to have dinner?” Mayson invited him. Yep, that was what Lois was waiting for.
“To discuss the case?” Clark asked. He was so naïve.
“No,” Mayson acknowledged.
He was visibly surprised by the offer, but Mayson didn’t seem to pick up on the clue that maybe she wasn’t his first choice. Lois hurried over to save him.
“I’m sorry. Clark and I already made plans for dinner,” Lois informed Mayson, slipping an arm around her friend’s. “Didn’t we, Clark?”
While Mayson looked taken aback at Lois’s presence, the tart didn’t have enough grace to be embarrassed by her lude proposition.
Clark, too, appeared surprised. Almost certainly he was unsure of Lois’s intensions. She smiled to encourage him. His delight lit up his face as he turned toward his impromptu guest. “I’m sorry, Mayson. I didn’t mean to mislead you. But Lois and I… Well, you know…”
“No, I’m the one who is sorry. I should have realized you had a guest. We’ll talk more about the case at a different time. Okay?”
Lois found it difficult to hide her smirk at Mayson’s hasty retreat. It could only have been better if the door had hit her on her broad rear-end on the way out. Lois turned to find Clark quietly assessing her. He was likely to have a million questions for her that she still wouldn’t know how to respond to.
But the question he posed, she knew just how to answer. “Does that mean you’re available for dinner?”
Her mouth curved upward as she tugged him closer. “Oui.”
