By IRC Round Robin
Submitted April 23, 1998
Summary: A hair-raising tale <eg> of a Star Labs experiment gone wrong.
An IRC Round Robin by Zoomway <Zoomway@aol.com>; Eraygun <Eraygun@aol.com>; Nekanuq <Nekanuq@aol.com>;and Mackteach <Mackteach@aol.com>.
Lois and Clark shared a frustrated glance as Dr. Klein paced in front of them. In a way, Clark privately felt that Klein and Lois were a lot alike. Both were prone to pacing, exaggerated arm movements, and hard-line babbling before coming to the point if the problem was emotionally distressing.
"Dr. Klein," Clark finally said while the doctor took a reset breath. "If you just *tell* us what has you so upset, and why you feel Lois and I could help — "
"What do you think I've been *trying* to tell you? Haven't you been listening?!" Before Clark could respond, Klein continued, "Of course you haven't. Who listens to *me*? It's not like don't I hear the jokes about the 'Pillsbury Doughboy' and his 'poppin' fresh pocket protector'."
As Klein went on another self-deprecating tirade, Lois touched Clark's shoulder and stepped forward. Clark gave Lois that 'you think I can't handle it so send in the A-Team' look. It was rather hard to describe other than Clark set his head at an angle with one side of his lips turned down, accompanied by a frustrated sigh. Lois, on the other hand, had her 'if you want a job done, do it yourself' lip curl of confidence.
"Dr. Klein," she said matter-of-factly, "we just want to help, but we can't do that unless you calm down, and just give us the facts." Klein opened his mouth, but Lois raised her hand. "*Just* the facts."
Klein focused, and then blurted, "I translated the works of Dr. Winninger and was synthesizing a drug that would not only increase male potency, but would also increase hormonal drive in either gender, and it was stolen — the whole thing, the formula, the test drug, notes, everything!" He finally took a deep breath. "Everything but … well, the latest study on the …"
"The what?" Clark asked, stepping forward.
"The side effects!"
"Serious side effects?" Clark asked
"Seizures, convulsions, death?" Lois asked.
"Hair," Klein sighed.
"Hair?" Lois laughed. "Isn't that how that high blood pressure medicine made a fortune? It grew hair?"
"Not hair, Ms. Lane, *hair*," Klein corrected her, and ushered them into a lab strewn with several cages. Klein uncovered one. "This is a sphynx. A hairless breed of cat."
Clark whistled. "Not anymore!"
Lois shook her head. "It looks like a Persian."
Klein rubbed his temples. "It's a Chia pet Frankenstein! We have to keep cutting his hair."
A beeper sounded. All three of them checked. "We have a winner," Lois said, holding up her pager. "It's Perry, be back in a second."
After Lois departed, Clark looked at the cat more closely. "So anyone taking the drug will be … oversexed, and — "
"How long after taking the drug does this hair growth begin?"
"Almost immediately. Not only that, but the hair growth is *everywhere* on the body."
Clark raised his eyebrows. "When you say everywhere, you don't mean — "
"I *mean* everywhere."
Lois rushed back in. "I think we got a break! There were reports of … get this … 'werewolves' near the 4th Street subway entrance."
"Then call Superman," Klein said, and tugged at Clark's jacket.
"No! I mean, no," Lois said. "Superman couldn't handle this the way it needs to be handled."
Clark folded his arms. "Oh?"
Lois folded *her* arms. Klein felt he was watching a showdown, and he wasn't far from wrong.
"Clark, Superman would scoop up the 'werewolves', and what good would that do if we need the drugs and Klein's notes?"
Clark, his arms still folded, purposely straightened a bit, as if to increase the height difference. "Superman could question them, Lois."
Lois straightened. "And people who have been taking illegal drugs to increase potency are going to tell Superman where they got the drugs?"
Clark's expression conceded the point. "Well, we could start off at Police Headquarters. Maybe Henderson and Company will be able to give us a little help," he said.
Outside of STAR Labs and away from Dr.Klein's interested gaze, Clark returned to his argument. "Look, Lois, once we get some hard information about the missing material, I think it would be much safer to let Superman take over — " He broke off when she raised a superior eyebrow and shook her head. "What? What's wrong with using a little super-help in this situation?"
Lois shrugged. "Nothing's *wrong* with it, Clark, if you think *you* need superpowers to do this, by all means, use them."
"And what exactly does that mean — 'if *I* need them'?" Clark studied her face, which was suspiciously bland. "Are you saying that I couldn't handle this without my powers?"
Lois raised a superior eyebrow. "Are you saying that you could?"
"Of course I could!"
"Prove it. You're so used to relying on your buzz-buzz that I bet you can't do this investigation without it."
He studied her face for a moment and then grinned. "Okay. Bet." Clark chuckled at Lois' surprised expression and took her arm. "But I get to set the stakes."
"What — ?" she began, but he placed a finger on her parted lips and smiled at her slightly wary look.
"Later, honey." He kissed her quickly. "Hold that thought."
They caught a cab at the curb, and within thirty seconds were snarled in one of the worst traffic jams Metropolis had seen since the last Arnold Schwarzenegger movie had blocked off the whole of downtown to shoot his big finale. Clark sat quietly in the back seat, his arm draped behind Lois' shoulders, while she cursed under her breath the lousy timing of this traffic jam, the Jeep being in the shop, and the bet.
"I don't suppose you want to get out and walk, do you, Lois?" Clark smiled, a little too sincerely for Lois' taste.
"Sure, Clark, let's walk. The fresh air will be nice."
The cab was wedged between two other cars so closely they ended up climbing through the window, then across several hoods and trunks before finally finding clear pavement.
"This is ridiculous, Clark. What could be causing such a mess?"
"Hard to say without rising above it to find out, honey." Clark craned his neck to look around as far as he could see. Then he grabbed Lois' arm and pulled her behind him in a protective gesture. She tried to see where he was looking over the car tops. "Lois, I think we're about to find out."
Three 'people', all covered in hair, their clothing abandoned, were running away from police officers and the animal control officers. Everywhere the 'werewolves' ran, the hairless variety of humans ran screaming in the opposite direction. Squealing brakes at the head of the intersection had caused the traffic jam.
Lois slapped the back of her hand on Clark's arm, "Let's go!"
Clark shook his head, and started trotting after his wife at 'space normal' speed.
They weaved in and out of cars, fallen packages, fainted bodies, and dogcatcher loop sticks.
"There!" Lois shouted, and turned a corner as one of the fur-covered miscreants vanished down an alley.
Clark caught up to her at the alley. "Any sign of them?"
"No, and you could at least breathe hard after running."
Clark propped an elbow on the wall. "Don't take this out on me. You wanted the buzz-buzz put in exile."
"I'm not taking anything *out* on you," she said, unable to hide her frustration.
"But even if you didn't have powers, you could run faster than that!"
"Honey, I played football in college so I could learn to gauge a … well, a human standard. I chose football so everyone at least would be padded. I got pretty good at playing to that standard, but it isn't exactly a science."
Lois put a hand on Clark's chest and smoothed down his tie. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he said softly and wrapped his arms around her. "I think we need a more subtle approach anyway.
"All right," Lois smiled. "What's the 'subtle' approach?"
Clark whispered, "Remember Angel and Spike?"
Lois raised one eyebrow. "So why do you think we need a reappearance of that dynamic duo?"
"Well, whoever is selling this stuff has got to be on the sleazy side. And I can't really think of anyone sleazier than those two. Besides, if I've got to handle this as a regular guy, it means undercover teamwork."
Lois looked at Clark warily. "Well, I guess I have Angel's old outfit somewhere."
"It's in our bedroom closet way in the back."
"You know where it is?!"
"Well er … er …"
"I thought you said it was 'appropriately cheap'."
"Well, er … I …"
Clark scuffed his foot against the ground. "I … um … yeah, 'appropriately cheap'…" He looked up then, a little gleam in his eye. "But I like a cheap thrill now and then."
Lois let out a small "ha," then folded her arms across her chest. "Clark Kent, you are just full of surprises. Were you planning on telling me about this fantasy any time soon?"
He grinned, his smile shining out from his tanned face. "Well … I figured some Saturday night, when you ran out to get videos, you'd be greeted by Spike when you got back."
Lois' mouth dropped. "It's times like these I really wish I didn't have a job. Maybe we can solve this one easy. What do you think?"
"I'm with you. We find these hairy beasties, give 'em a quick shave, get the formula and everything back to Klein, and you've got yourself a date."
"And we can practice being sleazy in advance. So, does Spike live anywhere near Angel?"
"Right next door in a sweater box, honey. He doesn't like to leave her side."
Lois tilted her head at him. Even when he was thinking sleazy business, he was the sweetest man she'd ever met. "Well, let's pick them up, and find out who's behind this." Lois started moving briskly down the street, Clark hot on her heels.
After helping each other … dress, Angel and Spike emerged from a cab onto the less than tidy streets of Suicide Slum. The cabbie knew better than to even ask if they wanted him to wait. A cab up on blocks couldn't drive anywhere, anyway.
"Honey," Clark whispered, his tone so incongruous with the 'Spike' look. "I'm not trying to be overprotective, but this part of town — "
"It's okay, Clark, I can handle myself."
As if thugs followed a cosmic director's cue, a large, broken-nosed man walked out of the shadows. "You are one hot property," he said, in a slow, deliberate manner.
Clark stepped forward. "Watch what you say to the lady, pal."
The hulking man smiled. "I wasn't talking to the lady, pal."
Lois placed a hand to her vinyl-clad midriff. "Oh my gawd!"
Clark swallowed his chewing gum. "Me? You mean *me*?"
"Yeah, there's a nice heap up the block called the Chatterbox Hotel, rents on the half hour … interested?"
Clark cleared his throat. "I'm not that kind of … I don't — "
"Listen," the man continued, "I got some stuff … new on the street, really hot. We might spring for a whole hour."
"That's it!" Lois said, and stormed forward, but Clark restrained her.
"My sister Angel is just looking out for me. Tell you what, you get the room, leave a note at the desk, and I'll meet you there."
"You gotta deal, kid."
The moment the man turned the corner, Lois pushed Clark against the wall. "Have you lost your mind?! Do you *know* what that … that … chickenhawk wants?"
Clark shrugged, "I have a pretty good idea, but, honey, he talked about some 'new stuff'. It might be what we're looking for, and if so — "
"And if Gargantua was after me, would you let *me* meet him at the Blabbermouth?"
"Lois, I know you're upset, but — "
"Upset? Why would a woman be upset about her husband being the new talent in the tenderloin district?"
"Lois, calm down! I'll go to the desk, find out what room he's in, and then phone a tip to Henderson."
Lois let out a deep breath. "Okay, I'll wait here and see what I can come up with."
Lois smiled. "Uh huh, just as I thought."
"You're coming with me, and you can get mad, throw a fit, leave tools in the rain, but I am not leaving you here."
"Leave your tools in the rain?"
Clark smiled weakly. "Well, Dad said Mom did that to him once to get even."
"I don't care about bucolic justice, Clark. I'm staying here."
"Fine," Clark nodded. "Then so am I."
"Clark, I can … oh, forget it, let's go, you're making that face," she said, and then waited a moment. "Aren't you going to ask 'what face'?"
"No," he smiled, and put his arm around her neck as they began walking up the street. "I know what face I was making. You're the only person on this or any other planet who can get me to make that face."
"Good," she laughed, but the amusement was short-lived.
Men, women, and others of difficult to identify gender came pouring out of the double doors of the Chatterbox Hotel in all states of dress and undress. All were screaming and apparently running for their lives.
Clark started to change and launch himself toward the Chatterbox at superspeed when he noticed Lois standing behind him with her arms folded across her chest.
She smirked at him. "I knew you couldn't do it."
"What do you mean?
"A simple little riot and you're ready to drag *you know who* into this."
Clark shook his head and gave Lois a look that was tinged with equal parts of admiration and exasperation. "Okay. You want me to handle *this* as a regular guy? You're on. Let's go, Angel!"
And grabbing Lois by the hand he quickly made his way through the panicked crowd and into the lobby of the Chatterbox.
The ambiance off the Chatterbox matched its reputation
Ignoring the cheap furnishings and peeling paint, they scanned the lobby (sans buzz-buzz, of course) and hearing a noise behind the front desk, discovered the desk clerk cowering in fear.
"What happened?" Lois was the first to reach him, tenacious as always when she was hot on the trail of a story. Clark helped her get the man to his feet, but the clerk leaned back against the stained wallpaper behind him for support.
Clark and Lois looked at each other, wondering how long the construction of a building obviously ignored by building inspectors and fire codes could support hose, much less a human being.
"It … it was … ten feet tall, I swear … It walked in here like nothing was the matter, and asked for a room for a week! I didn't know Bigfoot could talk!" The man was chattering half to himself, wringing his hands and darting glances everywhere.
The two reporters nodded to each other. "Uh, Bigfoot? You sure it wasn't just someone who needed a haircut … uh … all over?"
The clerk stopped to look at them sharply. "What kind of idiot do you think I am? Look at this joint. You think I ain't used to seeing the dregs of your coffee filter walk through that door? You think all my regular customers would run screaming out of here if it was just some shaggy bum?"
"Well, where'd your Bigfoot go? I sure didn't see him come rampaging out after your clientele like a wild boar." Lois' skepticism was what would always make her the best investigative reporter there was, Clark mused. He stood quietly next to her, and simply admired her.
"He asked for a room," the clerk repeated. "I gave him one."
"You what?" Clark suddenly came to life, and stepped forward. "He's still here? Which room?"
"Number 13. Back down that hall, around the corner, down the steps, through the bar, across the moat …"
"Moat?" Lois and Clark spoke as one incredulous unit.
"Well, that's what we call it. We had a problem a few years back with a water main … It's really just a plank across a hole in the floor …"
"Glad to see you reinvest in the establishment," Lois muttered, and headed off to follow his directions, hoping she wasn't supposed to have taken notes. "Come on, Clark."
"Right behind you, my little Sasquatch."
Lois suddenly felt that perhaps her partner wasn't taking this case seriously enough any more. "What's with you?" she asked.
"Come on, Lois … we're dressed like the Fonz and Pinky Tuscadero, and we're wandering through some labyrinthine hole in the ground looking for a mythical creature, who now lives at Number 13, Chatterbox Way. What's not to love about this? Since when do hotels use the number 13 anyway?"
"Probably since they can't afford to skip a number in the decal package." She stopped at the end of the hall. "Did he say right, or left?"
Clark peered at Lois over the top of his sunglasses. "He didn't say, you interrupted him when he mentioned the 'moat'."
"Never mind," she whispered. "It's right over there."
Clark nodded and approached the door. He raised his fist to knock, and then lowered it. "What should I say?"
Lois shrugged innocently. "Hot Pockets is here, my big strong lover man."
"Geez," Clark said, and tapped on the door.
"Go away!" a frightened voice shouted from the other side of the door.
Lois nodded at Clark indicating he should try again. Clark reached down to the doorknob instead. It was unlocked, thus explaining how many private detectives got incriminating photos. He opened the door swiftly, but made sure he stood in front of Lois should their friend decide to bolt.
In that instant, a blur of hair leaped from behind the bed. "I said go away!"
"Angel and I aren't here for a good time," Clark said, trying to sound tough. "We want that new drug you were talking about."
Lois moved around to the far wall. "Spike — oh my gawd, it's Chewbacca!"
"I don't know nothin' about no drugs."
Clark shrugged,. "Suit yourself, but word on the street is it turns people into werewolves. You kinda fit that description, Jo-Jo."
"Yeah," Lois nodded. "I heard cops were given silver bullets. Talk about tax dollars down the drain. Rhinestone bullets would be cheaper, and they go nice with blue uniforms."
The hairy horror looked up from behind the bed. "Silver bullets?"
Clark folded his arms. "Yep, I heard the cops had orders to shoot the werewolves on sight."
"No," the man groaned pathetically.
"Of course," Clark added, "there's this egghead at STAR Labs who says he can reverse the effects of the drug, but — "
"But what?! I'll do anything, *pay* anything."
"Better forget about it, pal. That egghead wants his stolen stuff back too."
"I can get that! I can get it all. Just find a way to get me outta here."
Lois walked over to Clark and put a hand on his shoulder. "Spike has a friend that can get you out."
Clark smiled. "You mean it, Angel?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "You proved what you needed to prove."
"Thanks," he whispered, and dashed out of the room.
An instant later Superman flew into the window. "I heard one of the 'werewolves' was in this — "
"I ain't no werewolf, Superman!"
"I believe you, sir, but the police want them all rounded up, so — "
"No! They just wanna shoot us!"
"With silver bullets, no less," Lois added as she filed her nails.
"Look, Mr. Superman, this lady's brother is gonna get me outta here, and I was gonna take them to the stuff stolen from STAR Labs," the ever-fuzzier man whined, and then looked pleadingly at Lois. "Ain't that right, Angel?"
"That's right, Superman," she shrugged. "So just butt out."
Clark suppressed a grin. "I can't do that, Ms…?"
"Flamingo, daughter of exotic dancer La Belle Flamingo."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Flamingo, but this man is probably lying to both you and your brother."
"I ain't, I swear!"
Clark sighed. "Okay, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you're lying — "
"All right. I'll fly you and Ms. Flamingo to STAR Labs and I'll go back for the stolen items."
It was hard to say which of Superman's two passengers caused more talk at STAR Labs. Jo-Jo's hairy frame was unusual, but Lois dressed as she was made most of the lab techs turn and stare.
"Things must be rough at the Planet," one of them whispered as she entered Klein's lab with Superman after Jo-Jo was deposited in an observation room. "She must be moonlighting."
Deciding that the story aspect of the matter was in control, Clark flew back to Suicide Slum to pick up the missing drugs and Dr. Klein's notes and research.
While Clark was gone, Lois went home to change, returning to STAR Labs to study the man who could be a lobbyist's dream for making "hair in the sink" a crime punishable with hard labor.
She understood why the hotel clerk had said he was so tall. His hair was out of control, snarling in tangled rat's nests all over his body, making him look twice as big around, and at least a foot taller than he probably was. Lois thought that if she didn't know that this man was the victim of science gone awry, she'd be just as likely as peasants with pitchforks to believe he'd been cursed by some wart-nosed wizard.
She watched as Dr. Klein's team of crack lab techs strapped the mutating man to a table, and began his depilatory treatments.
Dr. Klein came out to Lois' vantage point by the door. "It won't be a perfect cure, but at least he won't have to shave his tongue when we're done with him. And he'll always be warm in the winter!" he added brightly.
"Dr. Klein," Lois rolled her eyes. "I think you haven't told us everything about this … experiment, have you? I need to know everything, now! Superman is out there trying to find the formula, and the notes, but this is still a major health danger, isn't it?" And, she thought, I don't want my husband suddenly becoming a paint target for every fur activist group out there.
Klein went pale. He'd wanted to tell them the whole story right from the start, but the higher-ups had put a clamp on that idea. "You're right, Lois. the truth is …"
Klein sat down heavily. "Nothing … really … just … the drug, to some degree, can be transferred by touch."
"Oh, God!" Lois looked at her hands and felt her face.
"No, no, Ms. Lane, not the hair side effect."
"Then what? What!"
Before Klein could answer, a red and blue blur entered the lab. As the blur solidified into Superman, it was clear what effect the drug was having. Superman was kissing Lois passionately, and Lois … wasn't resisting.
"Here now!" Klein shouted and clapped his hands together. "Enough of that!" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Clark Kent will kill me."
Lois turned her head to the side. "How long will this side effect last, Dr. Klein?"
"Oh, Lord, up to three hours at least, and with Superman, I have *no* idea. I'm so dreadfully sorry!"
Clark laughed against her neck, "Try and bear up under the strain, Lois."
"Um, I think if I can get Superman to take me *home*," Lois said breathlessly as Clark did that 'thing' with her neck. "Clark and I can … reason … oooh … with him."
"If you think that's best, Ms. Lane, but maybe … tranquilizers — "
"No, we don't know how the drugs would … mmm … would … um …"
"Interact, Ms. Lane?"
"Bingo!" she laughed.
"God," Klein whispered. "You won't be able to reason with Superman if you're feeling the same thing!"
Clark lifted Lois into his arms. "Takes one to know one, Dr. Klein," he said, and flew from the lab.
"I'm ruined," the doctor sighed. "Not that it matters after Clark Kent kills me." He walked over to his file cabinet. "Better make sure they have my blood type right on the insurance policy."
Lois held on tightly to Clark as he flew them in the general direction of their brownstone. She was amazed at his sense of direction considering that hers had gone completely haywire. Clark's kisses had a tendency to do that to her. She lost all sense of time, all sense of direction. All she was aware of was that she was here … in his arms.
She broke off the kiss and tried to figure out exactly where "here" was. She looked around, trying to get her eyes to focus. Between the clouds and Clark's kisses, she felt like she had gone cross-eyed. She looked back at her husband. Gently stroking his neck, she could see that he wasn't really focusing on where he was going. In fact, he wasn't focusing ahead of him as much as he was focusing on looking down her blouse.
Her gasp of surprise seemed to break his concentration and they dipped slightly in the air. He pulled his gaze away from the front of her blouse and looked at her. "Huh? His face was flushed and Lois could see that he was breathing rapidly.
"Are you okay?"
Clark grinned. "You tell me." With that remark, he stopped their forward progress and hovered. He slipped his arms around her, allowing her legs to dangle. Slowly, he rotated them in the air until they were floating, drifting vertically. He pulled her tightly into his embrace. "Tell me, Lois. Am I okay?"
"Um … I think that you're more than okay, Clark. Let's get home."
Clark nuzzled Lois' neck. "Mmmmm. Home."
"Clark … um … I … oh, that's … I think that …"
"Y'know what, Lois? Sometimes you think too much …" His words trailed off as his mouth closed over hers, swallowing her words of protest and replacing them with soft moans of pleasure.
Lois' hands caressed the back of Clark's neck, moving upward to tangle themselves in his hair. She loved how Clark kissed her. Tenderness and strength, friendship and love, heart and soul. All combined to take Lois' breath away. She responded in the only way possible. She returned his kiss with the same intensity, the same passion, the same love.
It was Clark's turn to moan as the effects of the drug intensified his reactions. God, he loved this woman and how she made him feel. He physically shivered as the sensations washed over and through him. Excitement. Anticipation. Completeness. Love.
With great reluctance on both their parts, they broke off the kiss. Re-positioning Lois in his arms he flew to their brownstone, through the French doors, up the stairs, and directly into their bedroom.
As if she were a priceless Lladro figurine, Clark gently placed Lois in the middle of their bed. Looking into her eyes, he caressed the side of her face and whispered. "How long did Dr. Klein say the side effect would last?"
Lois blinked once, recovering from Clark's kiss and the burst of speed home. "Um … I think he said something about … three hours?"
Clark's smile deepened and Lois saw his eyes darken with desire. "Well, then. Looks like Superman's taking the night off." He stepped back, his hand lingering along her face until only his fingertips touched her.
Desire mixed with a sense of responsibility in Lois. She reached out for his hand and held it. "Clark … you know that there's nothing that I would love more than for you to be here all night, but …"
Her words were cut off by Clark's sudden movement toward her and his soft, gentle kiss on her lips. His mouth moved across her cheek until he reached her ear. Lightly nipping the earlobe, he whispered, his warm breath making her shiver. "It's all right, Lois. Three hours for humans. I'm Superman, remember?"
Lois closed her eyes as his deep husky whisper caused a familiar and welcome tingle deep inside her. "Uh huh … I … re — what does … that … um … mean? Oh God …" Her hands reached up to pull him closer to her.
"Shhhh." He kissed her ear and began to trail kisses along her jawline. "It …" Kiss. "… means …" Kiss. "…that … I …" Kiss, kiss. "… choose … not to …" He had reached her mouth again and her lips were too hard to resist. His tongue slowly and teasingly swirled around her mouth before sweeping inside.
"Mmm … ah, Clark … not to …? " Lois' question dissolved into another moan of pleasure.
Clark raised his head. He smiled a very masculine and proprietary smile as he took in Lois' face. Her flushed cheeks, her lipstick-smeared mouth, her closed eyes, her smile of satisfaction. He was glad that he was the only one able to do that to her. "Lois, honey. Open your eyes. I need you to hear this."
Slowly, as if she were awakening from a dream, her eyelids opened. Clark felt himself begin to fall into those twin pools. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and Clark could swear that he could see the fires of passion behind them just waiting to flare out of control.
"Lois. Listen to me. I'm not going on patrol tonight. Not because of some drug. But because I *choose* not to."
She smiled a lazy smile and reached up to caress his face. "That's good, Clark. That's very good." She suddenly giggled. "Y'know why?"
Clark smiled down at his wife. "Why?"
"'Cause I think that I've been affected."
A frown of concern creased Clark's brow. "Are you okay?"
Lois trailed her hand down the front of his suit, her finger outlining the yellow S. "You tell me, Clark."
"You're more than okay, Lois." Closing his mouth over hers once again, he proceeded to show her how "more" she was.
Clark opened his eyes to a darkened bedroom. Moving carefully so he wouldn't waken Lois, he looked at the clock. Three hours! It had been three hours since he and Lois had been affected by the touch of that over-sexed 'werewolf' — and what hours they'd been. Their lovemaking had always been creative and passionate, but combined with the effects of coming in contact with the 'werewolf', it had taken on an intensity that surprised them both. More than anything, the sensations and feelings were heightened for Lois.
He looked around and chuckled to himself. Clothes were strewn everywhere. His cape hung from the dresser mirror. Lois' bra was hooked on the bedroom doorknob. His red boots were thrown in the corner and her blouse was draped over the lamp on their night stand.
Clark looked down at his sleeping wife. Her head was on his chest and even though he couldn't see it, he could feel her smile of contentment. He grinned. To see her lying there so peacefully, her arms loosely wrapped around him, who would think she could have been so wild earlier. "My little tornado …" he whispered as he kissed the top of her head.
She moaned softly and snuggled closer to him. Caressing her shoulder, Clark thought back over the past three hours and remembered …
As the memories filled his mind, he unconsciously tightened his grasp on her shoulder. He heard a soft chuckle.
"What were you doing, Clark?"
He looked down at her and growled his reply. "Remembering."
She smiled up at him. "Why don't you make some memories right now?" Her hand stroked his chest. She sighed. "I'm so glad that you didn't grow any hair like those others, Clark. I love feeling your smooth skin and muscles."
Clark smiled and leaned down to kiss her. "Me too, Lois. I don't like the idea of kissing you and coughing up a fur ball, either."
Lois laughed. "That is so sweet, Clark. I love you."
"I love you, too." He kissed the top of her head, and then slid from her arms and out of bed.
"Where are you going?"
"I have to make a phone call."
"A phone call? To whom?"
Clark grinned. "Dr. Klein. I'd better tell him that I'm not gonna kill him, don't you think?"
Lois chuckled. "Yeah, you'd better. He'll sleep better knowing that neither you nor any werewolves are out there stalking him. But hurry back." Her smile was seductive. "We have some more memories to make."
Clark grinned and bent to kiss her. "Hold that thought."