From: "Lois Lane" [llane@dailyplanet.com]
To: "Lex Luthor" [lluthor@lexcorp.com]
Sent: Friday, 01 April 2011 1:14 PM
Subject: You can't sue me, I was invited

Lex, 

I find it interesting how truly lax security is these days. A person can find out
so many things simply by wandering around unsupervised.

Your party was fascinating, and I'm sure Superman enjoyed it as well.

Dinner tonight at 8:00? I promise I'm not cooking.

Cheers,
Lois

***

The city sparkled at night and Lois loved that. She stood at the open window and watched arms flinging out to hail taxis, people hurrying on the sidwalk. The streetlights were slick across the streets; everything shimmered.

She pulled a drag on her cigarette, held it, and exhaled slowly. The smoke was sucked outside, out to dancing lights and the people. There would be a knock at the door soon, and she was still sorting words in her head, laying them out in copy - realigning them for maximum effect.

There were so many things she knew and only so many ways to play this to her advantage. He was, after all, Lex Luthor. He was powerful and rich, and - she snorted and stubbed out her cigarette with one hard twist - Superman's boyfriend.

Another cigarette fell into her palm with a shake of the pack, and she toyed with the lighter, flicking it over and over again, the flame rising and falling in short bursts. Lex Luthor was dating -

No. Lex Luthor was fucking Superman, and by proxy, a certain bumbling reporter, Clark Kent.

And who the hell would have ever guessed that one?

Lois Lane, she thought proudly. Lois Lane, that's who.

She should have figured it out sooner. Kent wasn't bad at being a reporter; he was quite good at it, but the farm-boy routine wore on Lois and there had been clues along the way, like the big huge blinking billboard that said 'Clark Kent suddenly vanishes mid-investigation! Superman appears and saves the day! Clark Kent shows back up at Lois' side with an apology and red spandex peeking out of his pants!'

Kent was damned lucky he was cavorting in the bed of the most powerful man in Metropolis, because clearly Lex was able to make suspicions disappear and charm memories into failing. He must be the brains behind it. He must be. He - the suit. Luthor came up with the suit, she knew it, and she quickly grabbed her notepad, jotted it down in shorthand.

Lois liked to dig; fact-finding was an art form, and she excelled.

She wanted to know all of it, from the beginning right up to tomorrow. Nosiness was a severely underrated quality, because it had led her to the door of Lex Luthor's study and the best scoop of her entire career. Luthor had thrown a well-attended and ridiculously fancy party, inviting politicians and dignitaries and - at Clark's insistence, she was sure - Lois Lane.

Kent had left mid-party in a rush and a muttered 'be back later', and she had gotten bored with talk of so-and-so's illicit affair and being groped by obnoxious red-faced businessmen whose wives pointedly ignored them from across the room.

She had an excuse ready if questioned - 'Just looking for Kent!'- when she heard voices coming from a room at the far end of the hall.

Her ear pressed against the door, she was able to hear snippets of conversation - 'earthquake…children…Bolivia' - and then suddenly Luthor's voice boomed 'In the middle of the fucking party, Clark, of all nights!'. Lois had suppressed a snicker, and strained to hear Clark's 'Lex, I had to, you know that' before it fell into a low murmur.

A quick glance out the window showed only the empty sidewalk in front of her building, a stray paper clinging to the drainage grate. Soon there would be a car pulling up in front, and a swish of expensive coat and click of impressive shoes would be making their way up the stairs.

It was annoying the way Clark was so generous and gracious while scooping all the big stories about Superman from under her, even more so now.

But she'd always bristled when she saw their names together in a by-line, and not because she didn't want to be linked to Clark Kent - no, it was good to be linked to Clark Kent, notoriously sweet boyfriend of Lex Luthor.

It was because Clark always, always was the one who cracked the story. The one who got the quote. The one who blinked wide innocent eyes and shrugged with a bashful grin, and told her he was just in the right place at the right time.

And that just wouldn't do. Not for Lois Lane, who intended to have Pulitzers and a whole wall with track lighting just to showcase them. She was going to have the exclusives from now on, the one-on-ones with Superman, the headline-making quotes and the front-page, above-the-fold articles.

She grinned and lit her cigarette. The long burn in her lungs felt powerful.

Powerful like the moment she furtively looked around the hall before slowly opening the door -

To find Superman on his knees in front of Lex Luthor.

His uniform was halfway off, muscled back wide and exposed, and Luthor had his hand wrapped in Superman's hair, eyes half-slitted against the light and his lips mouthing 'Clark' over and over.

Lois froze, peering through the crack in the door, holding her breath as Superman gave Lex Luthor a blowjob right there in the middle of the fucking party.

'God…Clark, god. Just…fuck,' Lex rasped, before shuddering and doubling over Superman, his hands sliding down Superman's back and latching on to the uniform while he sucked in huge breaths.

Lois backed away, slowly, and then sprinted to the bathroom, where she sucked in a few huge breaths of her own, not to mention half a pack of cigarettes.

The next day, Clark asked her where she disappeared to during the party, and she told him she had gotten a headache and gone home.

The day after that, she clicked 'Send' and smiled at Clark over her monitor, waving as he left for lunch.