Pheromone, More Likely: 2/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
What he needed, he decided, was his partner. He and Lois had to talk this over and see if they could get to the bottom of their colleagues' very strange behavior. At least, he didn't need to worry that Lois would fall all over him. She'd made it very clear for some time that she regarded him as a brother. Quickly, he scanned the office, looking for her, but she didn't seem to be in the newsroom. Ah, there she was, in the elevator. Maybe she was looking for him. Quickly, he swooped into the alley nearest the Planet and made a hurried change to Clark Kent. He'd meet her in the lobby, he decided. Then, they could decide what to do.
Part 2:
Halfway to the Daily Planet entrance, the inevitable happened. The sound of a great many emergency sirens assaulted his ears. He should have expected it, he thought, in resignation. It never rained, but it poured. A moment later, Superman was on his way to a multiple car accident on the Expressway. The mystery in the newsroom would have to be shelved for the moment.
Three hours later, Clark Kent called the Daily Planet to file his story.
The phone rang and rang and rang. He was almost ready to hang up when someone picked up the receiver. A voice said, "City desk." A giggle and a squeal punctuated the words. The receiver clattered, and in the background he could hear ... sounds. After a moment, he hung up the phone.
This was crazy! Had the entire staff lost its mind? He had to find Lois; that was for sure.
He made a quick change to Superman and headed back to the office. Maybe by now, Mona and Wilma had recovered their sanity, he thought without much hope, as he eased open the door to the newsroom.
The room was nearly deserted. There were still a few people here, but they were definitely not engaged in work-related activities. He stood looking around the office for several minutes, his mind spinning. What could possibly have caused such a thing? Unless mass insanity had hit the Daily Planet, there had to be something else behind it. Lois wasn't here, thank heavens, and neither were Wilma, Mona or the model who had assaulted him, earlier. Perry was nowhere to be seen, either, nor was Jimmy, and from the copy room, he could hear the copy machine running full-tilt, but forbore from taking a look to see what was going on.
A pair of arms slipped around his waist from behind. His heart jumped and started to pound, and he turned his head to see who his assailant was.
His jaw dropped. It was Rehalia.
The cleaning woman snuggled up to his back, tightening her arms around him. He cleared his throat, trying to think of a way out of this that wouldn't offend her too much.
"Um ... Rehalia, don't you think your husband would mind?" he asked.
"My husband?" she said.
"Yes, your husband. And, don't you have a couple of kids, too?"
"But, I love you," Rehalia informed him in a dreamy voice.
Oh boy, this was worse than he'd thought. "Um, I have to go ... um ... report on ... um ... something," he informed her, gently peeling her arms loose. "I'll ... um ... be back later, okay?"
Rehalia's face fell, but she stepped back, and he quickly ducked into the stairwell and made a hasty exit to the roof for the second time that day. Once there, he stopped and blew out his breath, trying to calm down and think.
Rehalia? She had always been friendly with him, in a shy sort of way, but he knew that her American husband and her family were the most important things in her life. What in the world could have caused her to suddenly decide to fall in love with him?
The other things he'd seen in the newsroom flashed into his mind, and he blushed. This situation was completely out of hand. He had to do something. But what?
Well, the first thing was obvious. He needed to find Lois. His brilliant partner might be able to help him figure it out. Somehow, everybody in the Daily Planet newsroom had been affected by this whatever-it-was. It was as if they were all drunk, only on love, or hormones, or something, instead of alcohol. But, where would Lois be? She had apparently tried to follow him from the newsroom this morning, after rescuing him from Mona. She might have gone to hunt for him, or she might have left the Planet after seeing what was going on in the newsroom on her return.
Well, he would first try to page her via her beeper. If that didn't work, he'd start looking in all the usual places. Sooner or later, she'd turn up.
Four hours and two rescues later, he was starting to get worried. She hadn't answered her beeper, which made sense, as he'd heard it going off in her desk drawer at the Daily Planet. Superman had been to every police station in the city, at City Hall, to The Fudge Castle, and any other place he could think of, including her apartment. He'd even hunted down Bobby Bigmouth, but her snitch hadn't seen her, either. Where could she possibly be?
Visions of the various felons that she had put in jail ran through his mind, and he cruised above the city in increasing circles, fighting down panic at the thought that one of them might have managed to get his hands on her. At least, Bobby hadn't heard about anyone who might be after her and the thought finally occurred to him that she could have realized that something strange was going on at the Planet and was trying to figure out what. But where would she have gone?
Maybe, he thought, she had tried to page him. It wouldn't have done any good, because he'd accidentally dropped his pager in the Hob's River yesterday during a rescue and hadn't gotten a replacement yet. Well, maybe she'd left a message on his apartment phone. He would check there, next.
**********
Having an apartment that opened on the outside was a distinct advantage, he thought. He didn't have to actually go through the rest of the building to get to his door, unlike the other tenants.
Clark unlocked the door to his apartment and entered, closing it behind him.
Someone had been here. He sniffed. Very faintly, he could smell the scent of the new perfume that had so permeated the fashion show this morning, and now that he thought about it, he could pick up the soft breathing of someone in the other room. He lowered his glasses.
There was someone in his bed, sleeping face down. He frowned. That almost looked like Lois, but it couldn't possibly be. The last place he was likely to find Lois was in his bed. Could one of the women from that fiasco this morning have come here to wait for him? How had she gotten in? Quietly, he floated forward, half an inch from the floor and rounded the wall that separated his bedroom from the living room.
Clothing was draped haphazardly over one of his bedroom chairs, and a black, lacy bra lay carelessly on the floor in front of it. Clark averted his eyes from it and glanced cautiously at the occupant of his bed. She was wearing one of his shirts.
It couldn't be Lois, he assured himself again. It wasn't possible.
The figure raised her head and smiled sleepily at him. It was Lois.
He closed his eyes for an instant, telling himself that the world hadn't really begun to revolve in reverse. It just felt that way.
"Lois?" Clark said, in dismay. "What are you doing here?"
"Hi," his partner said, pushing herself upright. "I've been waiting for you. What took you so long?"
"Um ..." Clearly, there was a problem, here. Clark swallowed. "I've been busy. Working."
Lois sat up and slid her feet to the floor. "Didn't you want to play hooky?" she asked. "You said you did." He had to work to keep his eyes off her long legs and the way his shirt hiked up her thighs as she slipped out of the bed.
"Um ... " His throat wanted to constrict. She was clearly a lot more dangerous to him than the earlier mob of women had been. "Lois, do you feel all right?" Great, Kent, now that was a brilliant question!
"Never better," she said, looking him up and down, and he could have sworn she licked her lips. She glided across the carpet toward him, her hips swaying slightly. He jerked his eyes from the open neck of his shirt, unbuttoned tantalizingly low and fixed his gaze determinedly on her face. It was clear to him that whatever had affected the others had also affected Lois, and the most difficult thing of all was going to be resisting her, but if he didn't, she'd never speak to him again.
"Um, Lois," he faltered, "I was just going to go pick up some take-out. What would you like me to get for you?"
She slid her arms around his neck, and it became instantly obvious to him that she had nothing on under the shirt. "Just you," she informed him, running a finger down the side of his face. Clark felt himself break out in a sweat.
"Um ..." He unwrapped her arms and backed away. "Well, I'm starved. I'll be right back."
He darted out of the room and an instant later was airborne. Oh, man, what was he going to do now? For the sake of his own sanity, he was going to have to stay away from his apartment and Lois; there was no other choice. On the other hand, she was clearly not responsible for her behavior. He also needed to keep an eye on her to be sure she didn't get into trouble while her judgement was this clouded. But it was going to be sheer torture.
**********
He was still watching her when she walked into the Daily Planet the next morning.
She had returned home after sleeping in his bed all night, and changed her clothes. When he had concluded that she was indeed engaged in dressing for work, he had gone back to his apartment for a quick shower, shave and to choose an outfit for the office before he returned to monitor his partner.
For a time, he had entertained the hope that whatever had affected her and the others in the office might have worn off by morning, but one glimpse of the outfit she was wearing when she stepped out of her apartment killed that hope stone dead. The white, lacy, low-cut dress was a lot more flattering and showed a great deal more of Lois than any of the professional suits that she normally wore to work. He resisted the urge to tear at his hair and followed his partner from two hundred feet as she drove to the Daily Planet, ready to help if she needed it.
But she didn't. She made it safely to the office and walked in, glancing hopefully around, and he saw her smile fade when she looked at his desk. She must, he thought, have been looking for him, and for a moment, he felt a stab of guilt. If only she would look at him the way she had last night when she was in her right mind, but no, then he would only be good old Clark, her work partner and platonic friend, when what he really wanted was ...
Sternly, he told his mind and libido to stop right there. Now wasn't the time to be indulging in such thoughts, when Lois and the others in the office clearly needed his help.
There weren't many people in the office today, but those who were had transformed the newsroom nearly out of recognition. Balloons in the shape of red and pink hearts floated everywhere. Flowers decorated the desks and tables, and somebody had hung a big banner proclaiming "Love Conquers All" across the middle of the room, although how they had managed to secure it without the attributes of a human fly, he wasn't sure. He could hear music from the "love station" playing in the background. Valentine's Day, it seemed, had arrived in November.
Perry, at least, was in his office, humming "Love Me Tender", and he could see Jimmy seated at his desk, leafing through a sheaf of what looked like photographs. Well, this was it.
Clark took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He was going to have to put in an appearance eventually. Maybe, in public, Lois's behavior would be a little more circumspect. He hoped. Besides, he still needed her help. Hopefully, other than her sudden, very frustrating desire for him, her mind would be working as well as it usually did. Maybe, if he could keep her attention on the subject of their colleagues' peculiar behavior, they could figure out what had happened.
He landed in an alley not far from the Planet and strode briskly toward the entranceway. As he neared it, he stopped at the newsstand, as he always did, to buy a copy of the morning edition. The headlines caught his eye, and he stood reading them for a second, his mind not really comprehending what he saw.
"Couple Re-United! Love Wins Out!" The "o"s in the headlines had been replaced with little hearts.
If Perry had allowed this thing to go to press, then their editor was as bad off as the rest of the staff. The vision of his boss receiving a haymaker from Rehalia flashed through his mind, and he shuddered faintly. Hopefully, Rehalia wouldn't show up to work today. He really didn't want to have to fight her, or anybody else off. What on Earth could have caused this craziness? It seemed likely that he was the only sane member of the entire news staff.
When the elevator doors opened on the newsroom, his worst fears were realized. Lois looked up at the sound of the elevator doors opening, and a brilliant smile lit her face. She jumped to her feet and ran toward him. Clark tried to keep his eyes fixed above her shoulders. The rest of the vision in white lace bouncing toward him was too stressful for him to allow himself to think of it.
Lois rushed up the steps and flung herself into his arms. "Clark! Where have you been, my darling?"
He was forced to catch her, as the other choice would have been to drop her. Quickly, he set her down, but her arms had fastened themselves around him in a way he found reminiscent of yesterday's mass attack. Gently, he peeled them loose. "Lois, we have to talk."
"Oh, yes," Lois agreed, "I have so much to say!"
He was sure of that, but it didn't mean anything. Whatever had caused Lois's sudden attraction for him would probably vanish just as quickly as it had appeared. He took her hand, leading her toward a spot at some distance from the activities going on in the newsroom. He averted his eyes from the passionate kiss being exchanged between Eduardo and one of the secretaries, thankful only that no one was pursuing him today, unless you counted Lois, and resolutely ignored the sounds issuing from the copy room, audible to him even over the noise of the copy machine. Hopefully the thing wouldn't burn out, but even if it did, nothing short of a full-scale emergency was going to make him go in there. He pulled out a chair for his partner and sat across from her.
"Lois," he said, earnestly, "you have to listen to me. Something very strange has happened to everyone in the newsroom. To you. You're not in control of yourself."
"I know," Lois agreed. "For the first time in my life, Clark. It's wonderful to be able to say what I really feel."
He tried again. "Lois, you're not yourself."
She leaned forward, displaying a generous amount of cleavage. He tried not to notice. "Yes I am, Clark. Just because I didn't say it doesn't mean I didn't feel it."
He swallowed. It would be wonderful if what she had said were really true, but he couldn't allow himself to hope. She'd made it extremely clear where he stood in relation to her.
"Lois," he said, trying to impress on her by his attitude the seriousness of the situation, "I need your help. I need you to concentrate."
"Okay," she said. She sat back, to his relief, and looked him in the eyes.
"Good." He glanced around for a second and hurriedly averted his eyes from Eduardo and the secretary. "Now, it all started yesterday. It seems to have affected almost everyone in the newsroom. Maybe something we drank or ate?"
She moved from her chair to sit in his lap, entwining her arms around his neck. "I had Chinese Chicken salad and you had a steak sandwich with fries."
He unwrapped her arms again. "I need to think, Lois, and I can't when you do that. Now, what else was going on? The models were here, with the perfume." He stared at her with a sense of discovery. "The perfume! That woman with the perfume that smelled like --"
"Dirty socks," Lois agreed, beginning to run her fingers through his hair. "Maybe Jimmy has a picture of her. He's got a whole stack of them." She started to unfasten his collar button.
Gently, he detached her hands from his shirt and moved her back to the other chair. "Sorry, Lois, but I think you'd kill me if I let you do that." He glanced across the room to where Jimmy sat, looking raptly at a set of photographs. "Jimmy, can I see those?"
The photos were of the models, mostly of one model. Jimmy happily displayed his prize to them. "Isn't she beautiful? And she's all mine."
Clark sighed. He had already learned that reasoning with Lois about the object of her affections -- him -- was worse than useless. "May I see them, Jimmy?"
Jimmy handed him the photos, reserving the close-up of April Stephens for himself. Clark riffled through them, and in the fourth one, he found what he sought; a slightly out-of-focus picture of the blond woman and her perfume atomizer.
Clark stood up. Lois also rose. "Where are you going?"
"Just to the magazine stand downstairs," Clark said.
"I'll go with you."
"I'll be right back," he assured her.
The elevator doors opened and Lex Luthor stepped out. Clark's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.
A pair of arms snaked themselves around his neck from behind, and turning his head in surprise, he recognized Hamilton Grimm, the quiet, middle-aged columnist who wrote the "Mystery Diner" feature for the Planet's Sunday edition. "Umm, Hamm, I'm working."
The food critic's arms tightened. "Aw, Clark, you're such a killjoy. Nobody's working. Why don't we just take the day off?"
Feeling distinctly harassed, Clark disengaged the other man's arms. "Because it's a workday, Hamm. If you'll excuse me ..." His exit toward the elevators was shamefully craven, he admitted later, but he'd dealt with too many shocks in the last twenty-four hours. His courage was running low.
"Aww, Clark," Hamilton said. "Why don't we just play hooky?"
Clark ducked into the elevator, feeling hunted.
**********
(tbc)
