Nightmare -- Part 6
**********
"Come on," Lois grunted. "Why can't I remember?"
She put her head in her hands, desperately trying to make the memories spool back into place. God, she needed to know what had happened yesterday. Almost more importantly, she needed to find out what had caused her to lose her memory of an entire day.
Although she had initially suspected Clark of getting her drunk to have his way with her, as soon as she was able to think clearly she had realized that she had been wrong. He couldn’t do something so horrible; he didn’t have the capacity. He had been her friend, and even though he had lied to her since the moment she had met him, she couldn't believe he was a serial rapist with a stock of Kryptonian magical rape drugs.
Something had made her fall madly in love with Clark, though. There was enough evidence of that in the doodles she had made on her notes. Maybe it had something to do with whatever was happening in the newsroom. But why would she have recovered and they still seem to be crazy?
It all started with remembering what had happened last night. Yes, she needed to figure out what was happening at work, but she really needed to remember what she had done last night. Forcing her memory was never going to work. Believing Clark's version of last night wouldn't work either. After all, she couldn't deal with the fact that she might never remember. It wasn't going to happen. She was going to fight this.
Okay, she needed to start off slowly. She couldn't push herself. So what did she remember? All the signs point to the fact that she had been to the PCD. Plus, at some point yesterday after the pest control division, but before she had ended up at Clark's she had broken up with Lex Luthor.
God, Lex Luthor. Now he confused things even more. She needed to forget about him for a minute. He wasn't that important. It wasn't even the fact that she had broken up with Lex. Strangely, that didn't even matter to her. She didn't really like him sure it was flattering to have the third richest man in the world for a boyfriend, but he was a slimy jerk when she really thought about it. Something was a little weird about him. No, that wasn't the point. Lex Luthor was insignificant.
She needed to focus. Now that her head wasn't pounding quite as badly and she was no longer hearing the drum line of the Metro State Marching Band in her ears, she had better concentrate.
"Clark," she whispered. "Superman." Saying the two names together didn't make it seem any more real. Clark Kent was Superman. Superman was Clark Kent. Dwelling on that point didn't make her remember anything about yesterday. Yes, he was Superman. Yes, he had lied to her. Yes, she had slept with him.
"Clark," she whispered, as tears began to fall down her cheeks, melding with the hot water from the shower. “How did you let this happen? How did I let it happen?”
She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall and let the hot, soothing water run down her body. She remembered waking up next to him, scared of what they had done. She remembered admiring his muscular shoulders and well-sculpted body. She remembered looking into his eyes and wanting to kiss him senseless.
She was alone, and more importantly she was safe. Her door and windows were locked, and no one, except maybe Superman could get in.
Superman. That brought her back to Clark.
"Clark," she whispered. "How could you do this to me? I trusted you."
Water trickled down her body down her face, dripping onto her shoulders, down her chest, stomach, and legs; a shiver raced through her body as the water droplets followed a path Clark's fingers had last night.
Déjà vu. Pleasure, a feeling she'd never thought she'd experience again. She remembered. It was almost like she felt. They were real. His warm kisses. His lips softly pressing against her skin. The soft trails of kisses on her lips and face. God, his lips were so soft, had felt so good against hers. She remembered tasting a small hint of fried rice when their lips had come together as one.
Fried rice. Chinese food. Clark hadn't lied to her about having Chinese food last night.
But that wasn't the only sobering revelation. She had *wanted* to kiss Clark Kent. Wanted it desperately! She had enjoyed his kisses.
The soapy water trailed a winding path along her body, and she realized that she could almost feel his lips against her skin. And she had liked it. Pleasure. Intense desire. She had wanted it, needed it, loved it.
Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she tried to remember. His lips. His kisses. His tongue. She remembered, oh so vividly . . .
**********
Their lips melded together; and their hands explored areas never before privileged to touch, evoking and experiencing pleasurable sensations neither had even imagined. She had never expected Clark Kent to be such a good kisser.
Running her hand up and down his back, she marveled at the well-defined muscles that lay beneath his thin t-shirt. Clark sure hid his physique well! Wow! Those were some hard muscles.
She slipped her hand under his shirt's hem, reveling at the feel of his smooth skin under her fingers. At the same time, she shivered when his hands brushed against her sides, and she moaned slightly against his kiss.
"Don't stop," she whispered against his lips.
She wanted him so badly. No, she *needed* him.
It had been a long time since she had been with a man. Too long. She couldn't remember the last time. Maybe it had been with Claude?
Claude. God, he was someone she never wanted to think of again. That experience had made her so guarded, so closed off around men especially men she liked. She’d given herself to him fully, but all she’d gotten in return was a stolen story she had worked so hard for.
But, no. Clark wasn’t Claude. She couldn’t compare the two.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, she finally saw Clark for what he truly was a scared, timid, inexperienced man. Clark was a man with needs and feelings, and without the capacity to hurt a fly. Not even a fruit fly.
And his eyes were full of passion, a passion directed at her and only her. Forever. He loved her.
But even though the love and desire were evident in his eyes, Clark seemed so very timid around her. Even though he was quite talented, she guessed that his skills were rather raw, and he wasn't exactly comfortable around a woman. She found the thought that Clark was inexperienced kind of hard to believe, though. Clark was an attractive, smart, funny young man from a small town in the middle of nowhere a breed likely quite hard to find. Every girl from Smallville must have lined up for miles for a chance with him.
That was not her biggest concern now, though. She couldn't care less about his past, especially right now. All she wanted to think about was the intense pleasure he was giving her with his hands stroking her skin and his tongue exploring her mouth.
But she wanted more. So much more. But Clark would never move on without her permission.
Lois reluctantly backed away from the kiss and whispered, so he could hear her this time, "Take it off, Clark."
That appeared to be the encouragement Clark needed.
No sooner had she finished saying his name, than he was already acting on her demand. In a flash, he helped her pull her shirt off and unhooked her bra. It seemed like he managed it all in one fluid motion. Amazing.
This was what she had been looking for. Clark was, indeed, a take-charge kind of guy; all he needed was a bit of encouragement.
Not only was he charming, good looking, and cared about her so deeply like she had never expected anyone to care for her, he was the kind of man who could steal her heart.
**********
She turned off the water in the shower, and stared at her hands in shock, not sure what to do, unable to believe her memories. That couldn't have been what had happened. Had she fallen for Clark Kent?
The memories were so vivid. They had to be hers.
The feelings were so real. His hands. His lips. His love. Her love. Her love? She had felt like she loved him, like she wanted him, like she needed him more than anything else.
She had encouraged him. Clark had been shocked. She had ambushed him. Plus, she had encouraged him to go farther than he had wanted. He had been willing to stop at kissing, yet she had pushed him to much greater heights of pleasure.
Why him? Why now?
She had never been interested in him before. So what had caused her to suddenly find him the most desirable man on Earth? Okay, when she had first met him, she had found him attractive. Okay, incredibly attractive. Okay, okay, he was a hunk. She'd even used the word 'hot' once or twice.
Okay, when she had first seen him in only a towel, she had wanted to rip the towel off. But she had *thought* about it, and never actually *done* it.
Yes, the desire had always been there. It had been heavily masked, but definitely there. She had never consciously acted on one of those desirous feelings or never even admitted to herself that she felt this way. Her inhibitions had always been there, and their boundaries were too strong to ever let her impulses through.
Why had it happened now? What had been the catalyst? He had been her friend. Her only friend. Her best friend. She hadn't wanted to jeopardize their friendship by acting on her attraction. Plus, she had known how attracted to her he was. He couldn't hide his emotions nearly as well as he obviously thought he could.
He'd wanted her. She'd wanted him.
Last night, they had reached the same inevitable conclusion, and had mutually satisfied each other's needs.
Yet he had to have known something had been different about the way she was acting last night. If she had seduced him, and actually wanted to sleep with him, and actually told him she loved him, he had to have realized she wasn't herself!
Maybe he had still taken advantage of her. Or maybe she had convinced him that she really did want him right then without waiting. And she had probably convinced him that she was enjoying it, too.
Because she had enjoyed each and every second of their love making. Yes, their love making. It hadn't been just sex. They had shared a beautiful expression of a wonderful, all-encompassing love. The sex was only a small part of the entire package.
Clark loved her, revered her. He had treated her like a queen, and had let her call all of the shots unsure of doing anything before she told him she was ready and she wanted him to do it.
Ever since the moment they had met, he had loved her. She had always known it. If she hadn't loved him since the moment they met, she had been attracted to him. When they had traveled to Smallville together, she had been prepared to hate it and him. She hated to admit it, but that stupid Corn Festival had been really fun. She had enjoyed meeting his parents and seeing what his life was like growing up. When that little police officer or sheriff, whatever Rachel Harris, and the way she was all touchy-feely with Clark, Lois's blood had boiled with jealousy. And when Trask had aimed the gun at Clark's head, Lois had realized what it would feel like to lose him. He meant so much to her, and she didn't know what she would do without him.
And, yes, she couldn't lie to herself. They were romantic feelings. She had pushed them to the back of her mind, never to be brought to the surface.
Again she was hit by a sobering memory. Their lovemaking had been wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that she could still feel his mouth against hers, his fingers on her skin, the passion that had ignited so many sparks of electricity between them.
Throughout it all, it had seemed like he was just as clumsy and inexperienced as she felt.
The memories were so vivid. It was like now that the gate had been opened, her memories came forth with no resistance.
After Clark had given her the most intense pleasure she had ever felt . . .
**********
She needed to give him the same pleasure he had given her. That thought was her sole focus.
Clark Kent was going to experience the most intense pleasure of his life, courtesy of Lois Lane.
She moved her hand to the waistband of his pants, but he put his hand on hers, halting her motions. "Oh god, Lois. Wait."
She ignored him completely, and continued to work her hands around the top button of his jeans.
"Wait, Lois, there's something I have to tell you." He sat up slightly and put his hand on top of hers, halting her ministrations.
She looked up at him quizzically, not moving her hand from his pants. "What is it, Clark?" she whispered.
"I'm . . . I'm . . ."
"Clark?"
"I've never told anyone this before." A deep crimson blush spread across his cheeks.
"Don't worry, Clark. You can tell me." She leaned down and kissed his soft, inviting lips again.
"Oh god, Lois. I'm a virgin."
The words had spilled out of his mouth so quickly, she wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly. "A what?" She abruptly backed away.
"A virgin," he repeated, this time almost in a whisper.
"A what?" No, it was impossible! She had thought he seemed a bit inexperienced, but a virgin?
"A virgin," he repeated, almost silently.
Suddenly, a feeling overcame her, telling her that she would be his first. It was all-consuming. The thought of teaching a man not any man -- Clark Kent -- about sex excited her more than anything else ever had.
She smiled, and said, "Well, we're going to have to change that, now aren't we?"
**********
Wow, had she wanted him. The feeling was so powerful, so unsettling, so wonderful, so frightening.
She believed him. He had told her the truth. Clark wasn't a rapist. Up until last night, he had been a virgin. Once he had told her that he was a virgin, she had wanted nothing more than to be his first, his only. They had experienced something so special together. They both had made love for the first time.
In both forms, Clark Kent was a decent man. Why was she accusing him of such horrible crimes? What happened to the concept of innocent until proven guilty?
She still didn't know why, but she had gone to his apartment yesterday to seduce him. And she had done an incredible job. And it had to have been related to what was happening at the ‘Planet’. She needed to find out what had happened to her -- to everyone.
She had to get to work. And soon. Why had Perry had led with a story about a couple being reunited. By RALPH? Why had Perry called himself a 'hunk-a hunk-a burnin' love'! It wasn't even Valentine's Day!
More troubled than ever, but for different reasons than before, she stepped out of the shower, and quickly dried her hair, got dressed, and applied a small amount of make up. Then she grabbed her notes off the table, and rushed out the door.
The only thing she was afraid of was that Clark would be at work, too. She needed to talk to him, to apologize for accusing him, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to face him yet -- or ever -- after the way she had acted.
She had been so horrible, so brutal, so unyielding, that she wasn't sure if their relationship could ever be salvaged. The words she had said to Clark had been devastating. She had accused him of a horrible crime without a second thought, and without even thinking about the person she knew him to be.
Even if he did listen to her apology, how did she know that he would accept her as a friend again? Would he ever trust her again?
She took a deep breath and took the final steps out the door. Even though she didn't want to think about it ever again, she knew she was going to have to face this sooner or later. And if she wanted to figure out what happened to her, she would have to face her wrongdoings and apologize to Clark. He was the only person who could help her right now.
But not yet. She wasn't ready to face him.
She had to find out what was going on at the 'Planet' first.
**********
The phone rang once, twice, three times, then a woman's voice said, "Hello?"
"Mom," Clark said weakly into the phone. He floated a few inches off the couch, holding his head in his hand.
"Clark, honey, what's wrong?" his mother's anxious voice came across the line.
He paused for a second, unable to come up with the right words to accurately convey his emotions.
"Clark?" she repeated.
"I," he sputtered, still not knowing where to begin. He was completely emotionally drained. Part of him wanted to cry, but he couldn't force the tears to come.
What would crying solve? Would it bring Lois back? Would it bring him back to last night to make different choices?
"I don't know what happened."
"What do you mean? Clark, are you okay?"
"No," he said pitifully. "I'm not okay. I can't believe it. It's like all my worst nightmares are coming true."
"What do you mean?" she repeated. "Is it Lex Luthor? Is it Kryptonite again?"
"Worse," he whispered. "It's Lois."
"Lois?"
He took a deep breath, almost uncomfortable sharing this with his mother, but knowing there was no one else in the world that would understand him as well. "We had the most amazing night last night."
"Well that's good?" Her voice was filled with caution, not wanting to make any assumptions.
"It was good. It was incredible. Lois told me she loved me, too, and we shared the best night of my life." He flipped in the air in frustration.
"That's wonderful, sweetheart."
"It was, Mom. Oh god, it was. But then everything changed."
"Changed?"
"Everything changed. It seems like everything that happened yesterday was actually a figment of my imagination."
"Clark, slow down. You're not making sense."
"That's it. It doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense. How could I have been so stupid? I mean of course she couldn't have really wanted me. I should have known."
"Clark!" his mother exclaimed. "Known what?"
"That she didn't really want me. I mean, how could she? I should have known something was wrong. I'm nothing but a stupid idealist who thought Lois Lane might eventually fall for him. Like she could ever love me. Huh. I am so delusional."
"What are you delusional about? Are you saying she doesn't love you?"
"No, she doesn't love me. She’ll never love me. Why would she ever love me? I mean, yesterday morning she hated me. She told me I was a sub-par reporter who didn't deserve my story! How could I have believed that she had gone from hating me to loving me in a matter of hours? I should to have known something wasn't right." By the end his words jumbled together, and even he wasn't sure what he was saying.
"Clark, honey, slow down."
He lost his elevation and flopped down onto the couch. "I can't slow down." He paused for a moment before he said, "She knows."
"Knows? That you're Superman?" Martha gasped. "Jonathan! Pick up the phone!"
Instantly, his father's voice came over the phone. "Lois knows?"
"Yes, she found out about me, but that isn't even the worst part."
"Found out? Clark, please tell me you told her about yourself before . . ." Martha trailed off, obviously hoping Clark would finish her sentence in his mind.
"How did she find out, son?" his father's crisp, but concerned voice demanded.
"I don't know. We woke up in bed together, and I wasn't wearing my glasses. She sort of figured it out. I know . . ."
"You slept with her before telling her about yourself? Clark!"
He closed his eyes and listened to his parents' shocked and disappointed voices. They were right. He was an idiot. That was only one of the many mistakes he had made last night. "I was so happy with the idea that she loved me. Clark. Not the man in spandex. I wanted to be with her as myself. Clark."
"But . . ."
"Mom, she said she loved me, the man with glasses, weaknesses, flaws rather than Superman her idealized, perfect hero. And I wanted that so badly. I needed it. I guess I didn't even stop to consider any of the possible ramifications of my actions. I did tell her about myself, but I don't think she heard me."
"What do you mean, son?"
"Well, I told her as we were, uh, you know." He felt himself blushing. He needed to talk to someone about this, but his parents might not have been the right choice. Too bad they were his only choice.
"What?" Martha said angrily. "Clark! We raised you better than that!"
"I know, mom. Like I said, I'm not proud of what I did. This is all my fault."
"Clark, honey, what happened?" Martha said slowly, spacing her words out, trying to get him to calm down and talk to them rationally. "What did you do?"
"She said I raped her."
"You WHAT?" Martha exclaimed.
"Rape?" Jonathan said simultaneously.
Clark felt the tears finally spring to his eyes. "She said she didn't remember anything from last night. She thought she was drunk, and I took advantage of her."
"Oh my god," Martha exclaimed.
Clark continued, "I didn't even know what to say to her. I thought she had come to me because she had realized she loved me. Maybe I was so enthralled with the idea that she could love me, that I didn't even stop to consider any of the other possibilities for her abrupt personality change. I mean, I never even considered the fact that she might be drunk."
"You didn't *get* her drunk, did you, son?"
"Of course not, Dad. You know I would never . . ."
"We know, honey. We had to ask to be sure."
He nodded, but knowing they couldn't see him, he said, "I am such an idiot. Maybe I did rape her. But I have no idea how I could have. She came to my apartment last night and seduced me! How could that be rape?"
"She seduced you?"
"She seduced me."
"Yet she says you raped her?" Jonathan asked, trying to confirm his picture of the situation.
"She said she wasn't herself. And she can't remember anything that happened yesterday. I don't know what to do. I mean, I thought it was strange that she came over with dinner last night, especially after the fight we had yesterday morning. But as we ate dinner, she wore down my inhibitions. I really thought she was apologizing and telling me she loved me." He took a deep breath and said, "I thought she meant it."
"Oh, Clark. She didn't believe you?"
"Mom, she thinks I am an animal and a liar." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "And I couldn’t really do anything to prove otherwise."
"She didn't believe you?"
"I don't know; think about what you would think if you were missing an entire day. You might leap to some wild conclusions," Martha supported Lois. "I'm not saying she's right, though, Clark."
"I know, Mom. It didn't help my case that I've been lying to her ever since we first met. What's to say I'm not lying to her now?"
"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "She didn't believe you at all?"
"Not at all. I told her everything, and she still thought I was lying. But why would she believe me?"
"Where is she now? Is she still there?" Jonathan asked.
"No, she left. I don't know where she went."
"You don't think . . ." Jonathan trailed off.
"I don’t know," he said frantically. "She might. If she still thinks I raped her, she might go to the police and tell them about me."
"You really think she'll do that to you?" Martha jumped in, trying to be rational. "Would Lois do that to you?"
"Normally, I'd say no, but now I have no idea. I've been so wrong about everything. The only thing I'm sure of is that I hurt Lois. Profoundly. Even though I didn't know I was hurting her, I should have known better. I am such an animal."
"Clark!" Jonathan exclaimed.
"It's all my fault. Maybe I deserve anything she does."
"Clark! You don't deserve anything!" Jonathan exclaimed. "Are you telling us the truth?"
"Yes."
"She came to you; she seduced you?"
"Yes," he almost whispered.
"And you didn't provoke her?"
"No."
"Then you have nothing to worry about. You're innocent, Clark."
Martha added, "You didn't rape her. You're only guilty of bad judgment, not rape."
"Well, what should I do?"
"First you have to keep her from going to the police. You need to keep your secret safe."
"How should I try to stop her? She doesn't believe me."
"You said she thought she was drunk?" Martha asked.
"Yeah."
“But did she act drunk, have any signs?”
“Of course not, dad. I would never have done anything with her if I thought she wasn’t making her own decisions.”
"Then investigate. See if you can find out what made her forget, whatever drug or drink it was, before she goes to the police."
"What if she already went to the police?"
"How long ago did she leave?" Jonathan asked.
"About half an hour ago."
Martha said, "And you haven't been arrested yet?" She paused for a second and said, "Turn on LNN! You have to see this!"
He reached for the remote, his heart pounding, wondering if it could possibly be the story of the year Clark Kent is Superman. With great trepidation, he turned on the TV. Suddenly the anchor's voice filled the room. "Valentine's Day comes early in some parts of Metropolis."
"Oh my god," Clark whispered as he saw a shot of the Daily Planet newsroom. It was decorated in red and white with hearts and flowers and little cupids.
"I'd suggest you start there, son," Jonathan deadpanned.
"I left work early yesterday," Clark said softly, not hearing what his father had said. "Lois must have been there. Something happened to the 'Planet'. I need to find out what it is! I wonder if Lois . . ." Then he realized he was still on the phone with his parents. "Mom, Dad, I'll call you tonight. Love you."
"Love you, too, Clark."
He hung up the phone hastily, and practically ran to the door, stopping only momentarily to pick up his copy of the 'Daily Planet' from the steps.
Cupids. Hearts. Love. A lead story by Ralph. Something weird was going on, and he was going to find out what it was.
And in the process, he was going to discover what had happened to Lois because it had to have happened at work. Something very strange was going on, and he had a feeling whatever had affected the 'Planet' had affected Lois, too.
Before he got all the way down the steps, a small piece of white paper caught his eyes. He bent down to pick it up and sighed. It was a receipt. For Chinese food.
Maybe this would prove to Lois that she had bought it like with a credit card number or something. Nope. She had paid with cash. Of course she had paid with cash. What else could go wrong?
But that was okay. The Chinese food didn't matter any more. It was all in the past. The most important thing for him to do now was find out exactly what had happened at the 'Planet' while he'd been away yesterday.
Then maybe Lois would believe him.
She had to believe him.
**********
