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From Part 3:“You just thank your lucky stars that you’re a man, not a woman!” she told him. “I mean, you guys really have it easy. All you need is a couple of different suits, about a dozen shirts and a selection of ties. Nobody bats an eyelid if you wear the same suit all week. Nobody cares if you only have one pair of shoes. Most of the time you could get away with wearing discount shirts, or even a shirt that doesn’t fit perfectly. Your suits can be as boring as you want - the colour barely matters. While we women... heaven help us if we wear the same outfit to work twice in one week! We sometimes even get smart comments if we wear the same thing two weeks running! And as for colours... we get called boring if we wear dull colours, and accused of trying to be noticed if we wear something brighter. And as for what we have to pay for these outfits... I *wish* I could get a decent work suit for the price you’re paying for these suits!”
She came to an abrupt halt, breathing heavily.
Clark blinked. “Um... okay, maybe I will get another suit while I’m here,” he said mildly.
Lois smiled covertly, her rant forgotten about. She wasn’t going to complain about getting another opportunity to see her partner modelling a piece of great tailoring!
*******
Now read on...Well, that had been fairly painless so far, Clark decided as he strode back to the Jeep carrying the large bags containing his two new suits. Okay, his credit card had taken something of a bashing, but he'd anticipated that, and he'd got rather more for his money than he'd expected. Added to which, he was very sure that he'd caught sight of Lois actually
ogling him. And he was positive that she'd come close to feeling him up at one point.
He stifled a grin. Yes, his partner was attracted to him, however much she might deny it. Even if he could never persuade her to see him as more than the reporter with whom she was paired, he could remember that, at least on one occasion, she'd eyed him up and, he supposed, had impure thoughts about his body. At least, he hoped she was having impure thoughts. He'd had them about her more than once, and it was only fair that she should be the one having to deal with it today.
He was still intrigued, actually, by the question of why Lois had suddenly offered to help him improve his image. It hadn’t made any sense at the time, but he’d been so thrown by her comments and the way she’d been looking at him that he hadn’t searched for a motive. Now, though...
Now, with the way she’d eyed him up in Nordstrom’s still fresh in his mind, he found himself speculating... and wondering... and his heart began to thump far faster than normal. Could it be that she was interested? That she was beginning to see him as more than just a partner, more than someone she was starting to become friends with? That she could just possibly be romantically interested in him? So maybe she was trying to smarten him up because
she would find him even more attractive if he dressed more appropriately, more in conformity with her preferences?
After all, they’d spent quite a bit of time together, one way or another, in the last few months. There’d been that assignment when they’d had to pose as honeymooners, and he couldn’t forget the pheromone incident - which had shown that Lois was in some way attracted to him, however much she might deny it. And when she’d been in danger from Sebastian Finn she’d spent a lot of time with him - some of it even voluntarily, rather than just because she’d felt under threat.
Maybe that was it. He stowed his purchases in the Jeep, then turned to hurry back to Lois. He wanted to find out whether he was right in his suspicions, though just how he was going to do that was beyond him for the moment. Still, he could watch her, see whether she sent him any more signals. Maybe, even, she’d be the one to make a move.
Whatever. At any rate, he was going to enjoy today a lot more than he’d expected to!
********
She’d needed those few minutes away from Clark, Lois thought as she sipped her double-strength latte. She was finding her partner just too attractive for her own good. And that was no good at all for her peace of mind. She had to work with him, after all! And anyway, there was no point at all in lusting after a man who was in love with someone else.
Wait a minute... lusting?
She wasn’t lusting after Clark Kent! That was a crazy idea! Completely outrageous, and not at all true. Clark was just her partner, that was all. A kind of nice guy she worked with. He could be pretty funny at times, and he had a strong protective streak which, secretly, she liked. But he was just Clark, the farmboy from Kansas, who was still trying to find his way in the big city.
And your friend.And, yes, she admitted, her friend too. He had been a very good friend on a few occasions lately, she reminded herself. But, regardless, he was just a friend. Not someone she lusted over
at all. Nope. No way.
“Hey, Lois!”
She looked up at the sound of Clark’s voice, and then felt a shiver run through her at the wide, open and friendly smile he was giving her. Oh, he had a killer smile...
I am not
attracted to Clark Kent! she told her hormones furiously, breaking eye contact with him to take a sip of her coffee.
“I got you a coffee,” she mumbled, indicating the covered container on the other side of the small table.
“You did?” Geez, why did he have to make it sound as if she’d made his day? She’d only bought him a coffee, for heaven’s sake - something he did for her at least once a week, and he usually brought her one several times a day from the Planet’s constantly-brewing filter machine. So the fact that she’d bought him one was hardly a big deal. And it certainly didn’t mean anything, so why was he grinning at her like that?
“Actually, we’d better get going,” she said abruptly, getting up before he had a chance to sit down. “There’s a lot of places to cover here, and I want to be at the Upper Metropolis Mall by lunchtime.”
If she’d expected him to object, she was disappointed; he simply picked up his disposable cup, took a long drink - it was just as well that the cup had been sitting for several minutes before he’d returned - and said, “Okay, let’s go. Where next?”
Outside, she indicated the shop opposite. “There.”
“Huh? Calvin Klein?” He blinked as she led the way inside. “Lois! I am
not letting you choose my underwear!”
She sighed. “Clark, Calvin Klein sells a lot more than just underwear! Come and have a look at these T-shirts. And their jeans are good quality too - a good label to be seen wearing.”
As Clark held up a charcoal T-shirt and held it against himself, Lois caught herself willing him to go and try it on... and, she thought, a pair of tight-fitting jeans would be an excellent idea too. Before she could think better of it, she’d grabbed a pair of black jeans in his size from a rail.
“Go on. Try these on with that T-shirt,” she urged him.
“Uh... if you say so,” he agreed, taking them and heading for the changing-room.
Lois hurried after him. “Don’t forget to come out and let me see. I mean, I’m supposed to be advising you here!”
“Yeah, but if they don’t fit I don’t need to come out, surely?”
Define ‘don’t fit’, Lois growled silently. If the jeans were too tight...
Lois! She slapped herself down mentally. This was
not the behaviour of a professional woman, and nor was it the way to be thinking of her partner, the partner who was romantically interested in someone else. She leaned against the wall outside the fitting rooms, forcing herself to recite the names of past winners of the Kerth investigative journalism award. She’d got back to 1984 when she heard her name being called.
“Lois? Is this okay?”
Jolting out of her abstraction, she whirled around to see Clark standing in front of her, dressed in the T-shirt and jeans.
Okay? He looked a
lot more than okay!
In fact... she wasn’t even sure that she could allow him to buy those clothes. He looked far too good to be anywhere outside the movies or the pages of a fashion magazine, she realised. The T-shirt fitted perfectly, neither too tight nor too loose, defining his pectoral and abdominal muscles in a way which didn’t leave that much to the imagination. The colour suited him too.
And as for the jeans... They moulded his hips and thighs and other areas of his lower body almost like a second skin. And yet when he moved, they looked comfortable. His long legs looked even longer encased in the close-fitting fabric, and the black gave him a dangerous look.
All he needed to complete the effect was a leather jacket - and she knew just where he could get one of those, too.
She swallowed. “Umm... Clark, you look... you look great,” she told him, hoping that her voice didn’t come out as too much of a squeak. “Ah... yeah, I think you should buy those. Yes, definitely.”
“You sure?” he questioned. “I wondered if the jeans were a little on the tight side.”
“Not from where I’m - uh, no. They look great,” she said, amending quickly and glancing away from him before he could notice how flustered she looked. Then something else caught her eye, and she rushed over to the rail she’d noticed and grabbed a black polo shirt. “Try this,” she urged. “It’ll look great with the jeans. And the little CK initials logo on the front would be a nice touch for you.”
He took it, looking doubtful. “It’s nice, but... well, wouldn’t it look pretentious?”
“Not at all,” she insisted. “Go on, take off the T-shirt and try it on!”
For a moment, she thought he was about to disappear back into the changing-room. Then he paused, raising an eyebrow at her in silence. Before she could react, he reached down and pulled the charcoal T-shirt over his head. She was treated to the extremely attractive sight of his bare, muscular and very solid chest for a few too-brief seconds before he then pulled on the polo shirt.
This expedition wasn’t doing her heart-rate any good at all, Lois reflected a few minutes later as she followed Clark over to the cash register. On the other hand, she was certainly getting some sights to remember!
*******
By the time they left the outlet mall, Clark felt as if they’d done a year’s worth of shopping in one day. Lois had marched him in and out of more clothes than he’d been in his entire lifetime, he thought. And he was carrying several more bags, too. There was Eddie Bauer, where she’d made him buy a couple of soft cotton shirts because she liked the feel of the fabric. And Brooks Brothers: chinos she’d insisted looked good on him, and another casual shirt, just because Lois said it looked great with the chinos. He’d also been persuaded to buy a couple of Izod shirts and more brand-name casual trousers - from Geoffrey Beene this time. Lord and Taylor and Saks Fifth Avenue bags contained formal shirts for work, because Lois had claimed that most of his existing shirts needed to go to Goodwill.
They’d done tours of Abercrombie and Fitch and Polo Ralph Lauren too, though - to Clark’s relief - without buying anything. Apart from the fact that Clark really hadn’t liked the range of clothing supplied by Abercrombie and Fitch anyway, he was getting just a little concerned about the way he was hitting his credit card. And Lois had warned him that she intended getting him to buy at least one new pair of shoes - knowing her, those would be expensive. Nothing but the best leather, he was sure.
She’d insisted on going into American Eagle too, but he’d gripped her arm and steered her out again after only a few seconds. At her surprised look of objection, he’d said firmly that even if the clothes had been remotely in his style, the loud music definitely wasn’t. She’d shrugged and, in what had probably been a small act of revenge, had steered him over to Macy’s to go through their tie collection. Oh yeah, and he now had three new ties too.
But he was enjoying every minute. His bad mood of earlier that morning was completely forgotten now; if he hadn’t entirely been happy with Lois’s retraction of her accusation concerning Cat, he’d put it out of his mind. Watching her reaction to him trying on clothes was doing wonders for his self-confidence and well-being.
The way she’d looked at him when he’d come out of the fitting-room in Nordstrom’s had been an eye-opener. But that had been nothing compared to the feral look on her face when they’d been in Calvin Klein. It had been pure instinct of the moment on his part to change T-shirts in front of her like that - and it had been worth any embarrassment he might have felt about stripping off in public.
He could have sworn that she’d almost growled.
Yes, that was the high point of the day so far, without a doubt. Well worth the damage to his credit card!
“Do I get a lunchbreak?” he asked her as they stowed his purchases in the back of the Jeep.
“Lunch, maybe - a break, no,” she said crisply. “There’s a drive-in Subway on the way to the other mall. We can eat on the move.”
This, he supposed, was serious shopping. Executed with military precision, too. But then, he shouldn’t be surprised; after all, Lois was never one to let the grass grow under her feet. Planet gossip had informed him that previous partners - none of whom had lasted long - had complained that she went about her daily life like a panther on speed. Well, he was one of the few people to whom that wasn’t a problem!
The other mall was even busier than the outlet mall had been by the time they’d left. Lois, though, clearly regarded the throng of other shoppers as no more than a traffic jam to be fought through; she pushed and wove her way through the crowds in a manner which, Clark thought, an army tracker would admire.
Then she stopped, and he saw the expensive-looking sign and shop front she was gesturing at.
Hair Artistry. A very expensive and exclusive-looking hairstylist.
“I made you an appointment here,” Lois was saying. “This was the only time they could fit you in. And we’ve only just made it, so you’d better get inside!”
“What?” Clark actually took a step backwards in his amazement. He couldn't get his hair cut! If the stylist even tried to take a scissors to his hair, the scissors would shatter in a way that he couldn't possibly explain away. Now what was he going to do?
“Clark, your hair is a disgrace,” Lois said impatiently. “It’s down below your collar at the back, and it keeps flopping over your glasses in front. You need a haircut - a
decent cut, not one where your mother puts a bowl over your head. And I’ve booked one for you. Now. Here.”
Now what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t possibly keep the appointment. And yet if he didn’t, Lois would want to know why. He could tell her that he had an appointment with his usual barber on Monday - but she’d object to that, wouldn’t she, given the disparaging way she’d talked about his hairstyle. No, she’d insist that she get his hair cut properly, here, by the expensive stylist she’d picked out.
Okay. There was one thing he could do...
“That was thoughtful of you, Lois,” he said with a smile. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Yeah, I’ll get my hair cut - and why don’t you do some shopping for yourself while you’re waiting?”
She shrugged. “I was planning on coming in with you. I can wait here - they’ll give me a coffee and a magazine, and I can keep an eye on what they do with you.”
He couldn’t have that!
“Uh... no, you don’t need to do that, Lois. Look, I’d love to take you to dinner tonight to thank you for all your help today,” he said quickly, hoping that the panic he was feeling wasn’t showing in his voice. He’d been turning over in his mind for the past hour or so the question of whether to ask her out; the idea of making it sound like a thank-you gesture, he’d thought, would stand at least some chance of success. And then, if she accepted, he could find out whether there was any truth at all in his speculation about the reason for her reaction to him today.
“We can give one of my new outfits an airing, huh?” he added, he hoped persuasively. “Why don’t you go and find yourself something new too, while I’m busy here?”
Lois looked taken aback by that. “Uh... well, if it’s to say thanks... yeah, that sounds nice. Okay - well, if you insist, I’ll go and take a look. There were a couple of things I needed to get for myself. Uh... I’ll see you in about an hour, okay? Over there.” She indicated the Starbucks across the wide aisle.
“Great!” Clark said, relieved that she was actually going to let him go into the hairdressers alone - and delighted that she’d agreed to go out with him that night. Not that it would be a date; she’d bought his line about it just being a gesture of thanks. But it was a start! They’d be spending the evening together, and if he could wangle it at this short notice, it would be at a quiet, intimate restaurant.
It was just as well that he’d taken her advice and increased the credit limit on his card!
Watching Lois, he saw her walk into Victoria’s Secret, and almost felt himself blush at the thought of what she might be looking at in there. Right; time to execute his plan, he told himself.
He went into Hair Artistry and caught the attention of the receptionist. “I think you have an appointment in my name - Clark Kent?”
“Ah - yes, sir, we do. Would you like to come this way?”
“Uh... actually, no,” Clark said apologetically. “You see, my girlfriend made this appointment for me as a surprise, but - well, I prefer to use my own barber, and I already have an appointment set up for next week. So I’d like to cancel this one. I’m sorry about the inconvenience.” He crossed his fingers behind his back as he referred to Lois as his girlfriend, but he’d decided that calling her that instead of just a friend would sound more convincing.
“Oh!” The receptionist was clearly surprised that anyone could consider the services of any other hair artist superior to those offered in his establishment. Clark gave an apologetic shrug, passed him a five-dollar tip and exited the shop, quickly ducking around the corner and down an aisle leading to an exit. Hurrying back into one of the service areas, he spun into the Suit and took off.
Back in his apartment and in the bathroom, he dug out a hand-mirror from the cabinet and arranged himself in front of the wall-mirror. This wasn’t an easy operation, which was the main reason why he did it so infrequently. But Lois was right: working in an environment like the Daily Planet, at the level he did, he was expected to look professional. It wasn’t enough just to be good at his job. And his hair, untouched since his second or third week at the Planet, was now considerably longer than it should be.
Engaging his heat vision, Clark began to manoeuvre its direction, and the direction of the hand mirror, and soon the smell of charred hair tissue began to fill the bathroom as chunks of hair fell to the floor.
*******
...tbc
