Lois awoke refreshed and rested.
And pinned to the mattress by Clark’s arm draped across her midsection.
She thought about trying to turn over to face him, but she was too comfortable. Besides, his soft, even breathing told her that he wasn’t awake yet.
She thought back and tried to remember the last time she’d felt so safe, so protected, so cared for in her life. She considered the few men with whom she’d been intimate in her life, the ones she’d awakened beside, and compared those feelings to this morning.
There was no comparison.
Clark was The One. She’d slept under the covers last night even as he’d been a complete gentleman and slept atop them. Not once, not even when she gave him any opening, any hint, any suggestion that she’d appreciate being closer to him, had he taken advantage of her.
Despite her insistence that he not tell her about his feelings for her, she couldn’t turn off her feelings for him. Sleeping beside him had dislodged something inside her and made her unable to thrive without him. She would never again say to him or hint to him or show him in any way that she wanted to leave his side.
Of course, it wasn’t entirely her decision. There were other considerations, like his freedom of choice and his feelings for her – assuming he still felt the way he’d hinted he did – and her very real need to visit the bathroom.
Maybe that fresh-from-the-shower idea wasn’t the worst one she’d ever had.
Maybe she’d try it in a couple of days. They had to get breakfast and get to a rehearsal with Louie before noon. He had some new ideas for their routine and he’d seemed eager to find out what they thought.
She knew she was just putting off a conversation they desperately needed to have, but once again her courage failed her.
*****
Louie handed two identical scripts to his favorite comic team. “Here ya go. I think this is gonna push youse guys out in front of just about everyone else in town.”
Lois began reading. After a moment, her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “Louie, we can’t do this material! We’d run off half our audience!”
Louie lifted his hands in feigned helplessness and turned to his daughter, who shook her head and said, “Don’t pull me into this, Dad. I told you they wouldn’t go for it.”
“C’mon, Kim, help out yer old man! These two gotta get some original material in the act. This is the kind of thing comics do nowadays!”
“What, get rude and dirty?”
Louie took a deep breath and wiped his hands over his face. “Can you help me convince them to try it? Just once? And if it don’t go over, it don’t go over.”
Kim frowned at her father, then slowly nodded. “Okay. But if the test audience doesn’t love it and both Clark and Lois hate it, it’ll have to go. Agreed?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine!”
“Shake on it, Pop.”
Louie glared at his daughter for a long moment before putting his hand out. “Girl, you drive a hard bargain, but okay.”
She took his hand and laughed. “Who do you think taught me how to do that, anyway?”
*****
Lois smiled and waited for the small test audience to finish clapping. “Thank you, thank you so much. Tonight we have a special guest with us. Direct from the Munich Institute of Advanced Regressive Studies, please welcome Professor Doctor Baron Herr Ludwig von Futzenbaum!”
Clark slowly strolled onstage, wearing a 1940’s vintage padded suit with a top hat and a false Van Dyke beard and mustache. He’d exchanged his wire-frame glasses for heavy plastic frames with no lenses. His left eye also sported a monocle.
The applause fell apart into near-hysterical laughter as Clark stood beside Lois with his hands folded across his ample fake stomach and beamed at the audience. Lois waited, smiling, as the initial laughter ran down.
“Professor, welcome to Metropolis.”
“Sank you very much.”
“What is your—”
“Ja, zat is vat mine great-uncle ze U-boat captain said many times.”
“Excuse me, but what is a U-boat? Does it tell the other ships to do a U-turn?”
Clark puffed himself up and glared at her through his monocle. “Nein, young fraulein. It iz short for Unterseeboot. Ze English name is ‘submarine’.”
“Ah, your great-uncle, the submarine captain?”
“Ja. He said many times, ‘Sank you very much.’”
Some in the audience groaned at the pun. A few laughed. Lois said, “I told you the line wasn’t that funny.”
Clark broke character for a moment and replied, “Nobody scores a touchdown on every play!”
“Just do the rest of the routine, all right?”
“Fine.” He adjusted his shoulders and folded his hands across his padded belly again, but before either one could speak, a tall auburn-haired woman in the second row wearing a short green dress stood up and threw a hotel card key on stage.
Clark picked it up and examined it, then looked at the woman who’d thrown it. “Young lady, vat is de meaning of dis item?”
“Whaddya think?” she yelled back.
“Hmm. It iz perhaps a sign zat you are seeking ze approval of strange men due to ze lack of approval you perceive in your own life. Or, it may zimply be zat you are just horny as a three-headed goat.”
The dozen or so people in the room laughed less than Lois thought the line deserved. She reached out and took the key from Clark, then tossed it back to the woman. “Come see me after the show, honey, and we’ll talk about it.” She turned back to Clark. “Now, Professor—”
“Doctor, bitte.”
“I hadn’t planned on biting anyone!”
“Oh, nein, nein! In English, it means ‘please.’ I vas not of you asking for a dental examination.”
A few scattered groans greeted the line. Lois glanced at Kim before continuing. “Of course. Doctor, can you tell us what the Institute for Advanced Regressive Studies does?”
“Zertainly. Ve study ze regressive tendencies of society in order to advance our knowledge.”
Lois paused as if waiting for more – waiting for laughter which didn’t come – then she said, “Could you be more specific, you know, give us a little more information?”
“Off course. Ve observe ze human subject in its natural envir-r-r-ronment und determine vat, if any, regression has taken place. For example, ze feline-garbed woman who threw her key onstage haz obviously regressed to a cavewoman state due to ze amount of martinis she haz made to dizzapear.”
Instead of laughing, the audience groaned wearily. Lois opened her mouth to deliver the next line, but instead shook her head and stepped out of character. “Louie, I’m sorry, but I just don’t think this premise is all that funny.”
Louie threw up his hands in apparent exasperation. “C’mon, Lois! Ya gotta give some audiences a little something off-color to laugh at! Ya can’t be Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm all the time! Ya need some slightly adult material!”
Lois glanced to Clark as if asking him a question. He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “I have to go with Lois on this one, Louie. I’m not feeling it either.”
“Guys, please! Ya gotta expand your repertory!”
Kim put her hand on her father’s shoulder. “Dad, I think they’re right. This routine feels like the first time they performed in the pool hall.”
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
“Remember what you said, that using Lois as the ditz and Clark as the straight man didn’t work because it sounded like they’d memorized a play in a foreign language? This is like that, except it’s worse.”
Louie stared at the floor, sighed, and shook his head all at once. “Okay, fine, youse guys don’t like this turkey. What about the next two or three? You like any of those?”
“I liked the one with Lois as the bubble dancer,” Clark offered.
The small audience laughed. “In your dreams, Farm Boy,” Lois growled.
He dipped his head slightly in a small bow and said, “As you wish.”
Lois shook her head. “I knew we shouldn’t have watched ‘The Princess Bride’ again last night.”
The audience laughed again, then Kim clapped her hands twice. “What about the Michael Jackson dance routine? It sounded funny to me.”
The woman who’d thrown the key turned around and demanded, “How are you gonna make people laugh at Michael Jackson?”
“Hey!” Louie snapped. “Youse is only supposed to heckle the comics, not the management!”
“Oh, please,” the woman said.
“Hang on now!” Kim called. “It’s a play on the song ‘Billie Jean’ and a line in the chorus. Lois and Clark dance to the song but they don’t say anything. You know the line ‘the child is not my son’ and how Jackson says ‘child’ like it’s ‘chair?’ That’s where the funny is!”
The woman lifted an eyebrow. “This I gotta see.”
Kim smiled at Lois. “Then let’s show them, partner.”
Lois set up the boom box and dropped in Jackson’s “Thriller” CD as Clark pulled off his German professor makeup. The audience watched the routine and they all laughed, even the woman with the key.
As Lois turned off the CD player, Kim clapped for attention and called out, “Clark? I thought you were into classical stuff like the waltz and foxtrot and such. Where did you learn to dance like that?”
He shrugged. “Lois taught me, mostly. We’ve been watching a lot of MJ’s videos lately. That man is really light on his feet.”
“Well, you’re not going to get a job as a dancer, but that’s not bad. You’re pretty agile for your size. Can I make a couple of suggestions?”
“Sure, as long as they’re not too involved.”
She jumped up and stood between Clark and Lois. “Okay, first thing is you need to use your arms a little more. You’re moving like this—” she demonstrated “—but you should go for something more like this—”
Clark watched her move with her arms raised more to the side and nodded, then tried it himself. “You mean like so?”
“Yes! Lois, you see what I mean, don’t you?”
Lois grinned at her. “I sure do.”
Kim smiled back. “Yeah, like – hey! I meant the dancing!”
“Oh, right, you did, I’m sure.”
Clark stopped and lifted an eyebrow at Lois. “I never knew the moonwalk could get this kind of reaction. No wonder he likes that move.”
*****
The first Gotham City show had gone smoothly and it was time to debut the new routine. Lois just hoped she got the chair sequence right.
And since it was also their last routine of the night, she hoped the audience laughed and didn’t run them off the stage before they finished the bit.
“Oh, Clark, can you come here for a minute?”
“Just for a minute?”
Lois grinned like a cheese-eating possum. “Maybe about three and a half minutes.”
“Okay, as long as it’s not any longer than that.”
“What’s wrong, honey? Are you tired?”
He heaved a big sigh and wiped his forehead with an ugly rag he’d pulled from his pants pocket. “Oh, yeah. I’m ready for this routine to be over and done so we can go home.”
Her grin vanished. “What, you don’t like making these nice folks laugh?”
“No! I like that just fine! I’m just tired from helping a friend move this morning.”
“Why would that tire you out?”
“He had a lot of chairs that he didn’t have room for, so I brought them with me tonight.”
She stared at him. “You brought chairs?”
“Yes.”
“Someone else’s chairs?”
A laugh rumbled up from the audience. “Well, I didn’t buy them from him.”
Lois’ amazement brought more chuckles. “To our show tonight?”
“Yes, Lois, I brought someone else’s chairs to the show tonight.”
“What are we supposed to do with them now?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
She frowned in thought and tapped her teeth with one fingernail. “Well, we have one more routine to do before we leave, so maybe we could come up with something—” She was interrupted by enthusiastic applause from the audience. “Hang on, folks, this one’s a bit different. We hope you like it.”
The lights dimmed and the thumping drum intro from Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” rolled out of the speakers above the stage. Clark began moving his feet in rhythm with the song as Lois slowly strutted to one side, then returned to center stage. By the time the main vocal began, he’d shucked his jacket, thrown it over his shoulder, and was dancing front and center on the stage with Lois right behind him.
She reached out and tapped him on the shoulder, then pointed at his chest with one finger.
She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene
I said don't mind, but what do you mean I am the one
Who will dance on the floor in the round
She said I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round
He stopped moving and stared at her as she danced in front of him as if she were Scheherazade and he was her favorite king.
She told me her name was Billie Jean
As she caused a scene
Then every head turned with eyes that dreamed of being the one
Who will dance on the floor in the round
He picked up the step again, then turned to follow her with his eyes as she danced around him and put her hands over her heart as if she’d been emotionally destroyed.
People always told me be careful what you do
And don't go around breaking young girls' hearts
And mama always told me be careful who you love
And be careful what you do because the lie becomes the truth
As she danced in front of him wiggling her hips and touching his cheek, he shook his head and broke rhythm. Lois mimed showing him a picture and he determinedly shook his head. Then she ran offstage, grabbed a metal folding chair, and brought it to him. He folded his arms across his chest, turned away, and shook his head again.
Billie Jean is not my lover
She's just a girl who says that I am the one
But the chair is not my son
She says I am the one, but the chair is not my son
She ran off again with the metal chair and brought back a wooden barstool. Clark waved her off and caught the beat again, moonwalking away from her. The audience, having finally gotten the play on the words, laughed and clapped. Some of them tried to clap with the beat, but it didn’t catch on with the rest. Lois faced the audience and silently mouthed “White people clapping” to their listeners. The ones who saw her laughed.
She says I am the one, but the chair is not my son
Lois mimed shooting him with her finger, then blew smoke from the “barrel” of the imaginary pistol she held. Then she holstered the “pistol” and resumed dancing toward him.
For forty days and for forty nights, the law was on her side
But who can stand when she's in demand?
Her schemes and plans
Cause we danced on the floor in the round
So take my strong advice, just remember to always think twice
(Don't think twice)
She leaned toward him and shook her index finger at him in admonishment.
Do think twice! (hoo)
He danced back in apparent horror, then they clasped hands and skipped in a circle as if surrounding a maypole. She broke away and mimed showing him the photo again.
She told my baby we'd danced till three, then she looked at me
Then showed a photo, my baby cried, his eyes were like mine (oh no)
Cause we danced on the floor in the round, baby
He pulled her to him, put his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply, then jumped away in apparent fear, again on the beat.
People always told me be careful of what you do
And don't go around breaking young girls' hearts
She came and stood right by me
Then the smell of sweet perfume
Lois pulled several of the hotel room keys from her pocket which had been thrown onto the stage earlier and offered them to him. He all but ran to the far side of the stage.
This happened much too soon
She called me to her room
She ran to the side, grabbed an electric blue wingback chair strapped to a furniture dolly, and rolled it out to center stage. Clark gave her an imperious “talk to the hand” gesture.
Billie Jean is not my lover
She's just a girl who claims that I am the one
But the chair is not my son
She shoved the chair offstage and grabbed a folded chaise lounge from beside the curtain. Once again he rejected it, this time as he danced and spun as if he were wearing just one glove.
Billie Jean is not my lover
She's just a girl who claims that I am the one
But the chair is not my son
Once again she frowned and pointed sharply to the lounge chair, but he still shook his head.
She says I am the one, but the chair is not my son
She threw the chaise lounge offstage and grabbed an inflated pool ring in the approximate shape of a seahorse. He seemed to consider it, then shook his head.
She says I am the one, but the chair is not my son
Lois threw the pool ring at him, missed, and turned around to grab a wheelchair.
Billie Jean is not my lover
She's just a girl who claims that I am the one
But the chair is not my son
She says I am the one, but the chair is not my son
Clark considered the wheelchair for a moment, then smiled, put his coat back on, nodded, and sat down. Lois strained to push him offstage as he sat in the chair, wiggling his feet and head to the beat while Michael Jackson repeatedly insisted through the fadeout that Billie Jean was not his lover.
The crowd, who had laughed at each new chair ever since the barstool had shown up, roared and clapped with approval. Their applause and calls for an encore followed the duo offstage as the club’s MC took the mic.
“Sorry, folks, that’s it for Lane and Kent, the hottest comedy team in town! At least, that’s it for tonight. They’ll be back tomorrow evening at eight, so tell your friends and neighbors, and maybe we can convince the fire marshal to look the other way just this once!” Laughter and applause broke out again and he had to yell into the microphone to be heard. “Good night and be safe!”
*****
Clark and Lois left the club through the front door and immediately saw that the thugs Lois had designated as Thing One and Thing Two were back. The burly, ill-tempered Thing Two was leaning against the driver’s side front fender of Lois’ Jeep, as the taller and more affable Thing One smiled and walked toward them.
“Good evening,” he said pleasantly.
Cautiously, Lois answered, “Well, hello to you, too. How do you like Gotham City?”
“Oh, it’s nice enough, but contributing to Gotham’s tour guide is not why we’ve crossed the river between Gotham and Metropolis. We’ve been asked to repeat Mister Smith’s invitation to perform at a party of his. And I can assure you both that Louie will receive a generous fee for his efforts.”
Clark nodded. “That’s good of you. But have you – or, perhaps, Mister Smith – actually spoken to Louie about this booking?”
One shook his head. “I can’t say that Louie has or has not been contacted. I don’t know. All I do know is that we have no intention of cutting him out of the loop.” He tilted his head to one side and put one hand in his pants pocket. “And I find it interesting that neither of you has asked what your fee for this performance might be.”
“Okay,” said Lois, “I’ll bite. How much are you offering us for this private party?”
“Two and one-half times your usual fee. In cash.” He paused, then said, “Of course, since cash is notoriously difficult to track, the IRS doesn’t have to know anything about this transaction.”
Clark smiled and mirrored the other man’s pose. “See, that’s the thing. We’ve already drawn the attention of the IRS just because of what we’re doing and where we’re doing it. I don’t think we can afford any more scrutiny from them at this point. Besides, Louie needs to handle all of our booking fees because he’s responsible for making sure our tax situation is copacetic.”
One straightened and pulled his empty hand out of his pocket, then crossed his arms. “You seem to be almost unreasonably honest, Mr. Kent.”
“I’m sorry about that. I don’t mean to be unreasonable. But I also don’t want our manager to lose any trust in us. And we can’t be double-booked – you know, that pesky can’t-be-in-two-places-at-once thing really gets in the way at times. We can’t take a gig unless it’s booked and paid for through Louie first.”
Two took a hard step toward them. “I don’t think you two get it. Mister Smith ain’t a guy you wanna say ‘no’ to. Not never. And since we represent his interests here, you really don’t wanna say ‘no’ to us, neither.”
Lois slipped behind Clark’s left shoulder. To her surprise, her partner seemed to get bigger and firmer as he set his feet on the sidewalk. “We aren’t accepting your booking,” Clark repeated intently, “but neither are we declining it. All we’re saying is that you need to book us through Louie. He’s the one who’s guiding our career now.”
Two reached out to Clark, pushing One away from him as he stomped closer. “Listen, pipsqueak, you better not—”
The moment the bigger man’s left hand closed around Clark’s right upper arm, Clark turned to his right and grabbed his attacker’s wrist and twisted it and bent over and the big man flipped over Clark’s left hip and smacked down on the sidewalk as his breath whooshed out of his lungs. Lois moved to the side and said to the Thing One, “You want some of this too, buster?”
One raised both hands and shook his head. “No, thank you. Please forgive Benton. He can be a bit – ah, impulsive at times.” To Clark, he said, “Mr. Kent, if you will allow me to assist my partner, we’ll deliver your response to Mister Smith.”
“As long as that’s all you do,” Clark growled.
One smiled thinly and without real humor. “I have no desire to fight either you or Ms. Lane, and especially not both of you at once. Your formidable reputations are well-earned.”
Clark backed away and waved One over. “He’s all yours. But I think that next time you should come by yourself, and talk to Louie when you do. I don’t entirely trust your buddy here.”
“A completely understandable reaction.” He bent down and lifted Two up by his arms. “Come along, Benton, let’s go. Count yourself fortunate that Mr. Kent did not smash your head against the concrete.”
The heavier thug’s eyes weren’t quite in focus, and he probably would have fallen had his partner not looped his arm around the man’s back. The old sea chanty “What Can You Do With A Drunken Sailor” popped into Lois’ mind as she watched them meander to a Ford sedan parked behind her Jeep. One put Benton in the passenger seat and buckled the belt, then walked around the car to the driver’s door. He hesitated before stepping into the car and appeared to consider saying something else, but he only smiled thinly at Clark before buckling his own seat belt.
After they’d driven away, Clark turned to Lois and touched her elbow. “You okay?”
“Sure, I’m fine, they never touched me.” She gave her partner an appraising once-over. “When have you had the time to learn judo?”
He smiled back. “Aikido, actually. I spent a few months in Okinawa several years ago when I was traveling the world, and there was a young sensei just starting out who was willing to teach the big clumsy white boy how not to get killed in a fight. I only got to green belt before I moved on, so I don’t have a whole lot to brag about. Doesn’t compare to your brown belt in Tai-Kwando.”
“I’m still impressed. That was a good throw.”
“Thanks. But I think it was only because I surprised him. If I meet him again, he’ll be more cautious.”
“Or he might bring a gun with him.”
Clark’s eyebrows went up. “I thought about that, but I felt like keeping you safe was worth the risk.”
His words touched her spirit and made her want to turn cartwheels, but she controlled her reactions as best she could. “Thank you. I – I appreciate it.”
He nodded to her. “Ready to go home now?”
She smiled and nodded. “Uh-huh. Do you want to drive?”
“No, you take the wheel. I’ll do my best to make sure no one is following us.”
Her good mood meter dropped a couple of notches. “I hadn’t thought about that, but you’re right. Let’s go, partner.”
*****
They made it back to the apartment without incident. Lois opened the door as Clark stood watch in the hallway. He pulled down his glasses and peeked into the apartment, then outside the building, but saw nothing amiss.
The overhead light snapped on in the apartment and he stepped in. She secured the locks and the door chain with rapt attention to her task. Over her shoulder, she asked, “Do we want to talk to Louie about Mister Smith now?”
“Yes, I think we’d better. We’re meeting him at eleven in the morning as usual. We’ll brief him then.”
She turned to face him. “Did you see Cat in the audience tonight?”
“No.”
“Neither did I. I hope that’s not a bad sign.”
Clark paused for a moment and listened for electronic bugs. The wireless transmitters always gave off a constant high-pitched single-toned whistle, one far too high for normal humans to hear. And passive microphones would return an echo to his ears, along with an intermittent ultra-high pitched whine.
Nothing. The place was still clean.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he said. “She probably had a date or another story to chase down. Jimmy told me that she’s turning into a good reporter who asks good follow-up questions.”
Lois pulled off her suit jacket. “When did you talk to Jimmy?”
“A couple of days ago at the deli down the street from the Planet. We ran into each other and had lunch. I had a yen for one of their hot turkey sandwiches.”
She grinned at him as she hung up the jacket. “The one with the mushrooms and cheese and thick bread?”
“Yep. You’d already had your yogurt or I would have called and offered to bring one back for you.”
“Are you kidding?” She lifted one foot after the other and pulled her shoes off. “I’ve gained about eight pounds since you started cooking for me on a regular basis, and I can’t carry extra weight like you can. I have to work hard to stay slender.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Honest, Lois, I hadn’t noticed that you’d put on weight. In fact, if you hadn’t told me, I still wouldn’t know.”
She stopped and tilted her head to one side, a soft smile slowly blossoming on her face. “I don’t know whether to be grateful to you or feel ignored.”
The words escaped his lips before he could capture them. “I have never been able to ignore you, Lois.”
The soft smile turned into a slight frown, though her eyes still showed amusement. “Now I don’t know if you mean that in a positive way, like you’re happy to have me around, or that I’m like a blister on your heel that you can’t stop thinking about.”
“You’re no blister. And I’m usually glad to have you around.”
“Usually?”
“Except when you slap my chest and tell me I have no comedic timing or sensibilities.”
“Only during our routines!”
He rotated one shoulder as if working out the kinks. “They don’t always feel routine.”
She laughed softly. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll try to do better.”
He barely managed not to say that the only way she could do better would be to stay with him forever. Instead, he hogtied his impulse and threw it down on the rodeo arena floor. He took a deeper-than-necessary breath and said, “I know it’s late, but are you hungry? I could fix something quick and light for us.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m good. I’m just – I think I’ll turn in for the night, okay? It’s my night for the couch, so I’ll take the bathroom first if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure. Sleep well. And don’t let any Things in, no matter what the number might be.”
The reference apparently baffled her for a brief moment, then she seemed to remember her nicknames for the two thugs who’d “invited” them to give a personal performance for a Mister Smith, whoever he was. She stopped at the bedroom door and looked back at him. She seemed to be thinking about saying something, then nodded once and went into the bedroom. “You too, Clark.”
He listened as she gently closed the door. It seemed to say, No peaceful slumber for you, Bubba. You don’t dare float in your sleep tonight – you’d drift right into the living room and hover over her like a doomed dirigible.
She’d probably wake up, see him, scream in terror, and be crushed when he awoke and fell down on her.
And then Perry would kill him for sure.
*****
She thought about the many things she might have said to him.
I love you more than life itself.
I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
Being with you here, in this apartment, is torture if we’re separated by misunderstanding or hesitancy.
Instead, she’d chickened out and murmured, “You too, Clark.”
Lois shut the door as gently as she could, then turned away from him and wiped her eyes. They’d almost shared a tender moment. But once again he’d rerouted the discussion away from intimate feelings to food. It was almost a cliché to her by now – they’d move toward something deep and personal, and Clark would sidestep at the last minute and suggest something to eat.
Just like he had the morning after he’d slept beside her.
At least he wasn’t running off every moment. At least he was just in the next room.
But he might have been in the next state for all the closeness she shared with him.
She’d thought he was going to say or do something tonight. After the second encounter with the Things, they had both seemed to open up to the other. Some of the bricks in the wall between them had fallen, and Lois had been encouraged.
Then Clark had ducked down behind the food thing and dodged her gentle invitation once more.
Maybe he needed something more direct. Maybe she really did need to step right out of the shower, looking sexier than any centerfold fantasy with water glistening on her skin and dripping from her hair and slink up to him and give him the best, the deepest, the dampest, the most intimate kiss of his life.
And then she could pick up the ten thousand pieces of her shattered heart when he rejected her yet again. It almost destroyed her just to think about it.
Oh, he’d be as gentle as a lamb, as considerate as a funeral director, and as impersonal as a tire salesman. I appreciate the sentiment, Lois, he’d tell her, and you’re certainly deserving of some good man’s love, but that kind of relationship just isn’t in the cards for us, not now, not ever. He’d try to let her down easy, but there was no way to un-ring that bell. Not only would her heart be irretrievably broken, any chance of going back to the Planet together would vanish like dew in a blast furnace.
Maybe they should do the show Mister Smith wanted them to do. Maybe he was a gangster – probably was, given the behavior of his representatives. Maybe she could provoke him into shooting her. Maybe she could die in Clark’s arms as he lied to her and told her that he loved her after all.
She was close to preferring that over being so near him while they were so far apart.
