"Get a glass!" Martha sighed in exasperation as she reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Clark raise the milk bottle to his lips.
He jumped and shot her a guilty smile, the smile that made it so difficult for her to stay annoyed with him. "Sorry, just seemed easier."
Tutting, Martha pulled a glass out of the cupboard and pressed it into Clark's hand. "It wouldn't even take you a second," she remarked, although she couldn't help but smile at the way his bottom lip had formed the smallest of pouts. She watched as he poured the milk into the glass and asked him, "Did you have a good weekend?"
"Yeah. Sorry I was late last night."
"That's ok, just don't make a habit of it."
"I won't" he assured her.
"Good."
Clark looked his Mom up and down, a frown playing about his feature as he took in her neat, black skirt suit. "You look very fancy today," he remarked.
Martha glanced down at her outfit, biting down on her bottom lip uncertainly. "I'm in the Metropolis office today and there's a lot of meetings. I thought this might be more appropriate. Does it look ok? It's been in the back of wardrobe for...well, a while," she admitted.
"It looks fine, it's just a change from trousers and jeans. Are you taking the truck?"
Giving a laugh, Martha's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Lionel barely tolerates it sitting in front of the mannor, so I doubt he would be impressed if I brought it to sit outside his fancy, top of the range offices. He's picking me up in the limo."
"Lionel?" Clark echoed, his frown deepening.
"Yes," Martha glanced at his as she began gathering her papers off the worktop, pushing them carefully into her bag as she gave a nonchalant shrug. "We spend all day together, calling him Mr Luthor becomes a bit over the top."
"I suppose," Clark mumbled. "Just be careful, Lex has told me what he's like."
"I know exactly what he's like," Martha assured him. She probably knew him a bit too well, but she was hardly about to admit that to her son. "You don't have to worry." Deciding that it was wise to divert Clark's attention from this subject, she told him, "I might be late back. I've left chilli in the fridge for you and there's apple pie in there as well. Don't eat all of it at once," she warned him.
Clark grinned. "You made apple pie? Awesome." He leaned back against the counter. "Is it alright if Pete and Chloe come round? It's just to do our homework."
"I don't mind. Although you might not want to relax just yet," she told him dryly, "Because I believe that's your school bus approaching"
Jumping, Clark muttered under his breath and grabbed his bag. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Have a good day Mom, I'll see you tonight."
She didn't have the chance to answer him as he disappeared, at a normal speed, out of the door. Martha watched him jog towards the bus and sighed, turning back to survey the kitchen. Other than the bowl and glass that Clark had left by the sink it was spotless, mainly because she had spent all of yesterday scrubbing every inch of the house in an effort to keep busy. Her hands knotted together anxiously and she looked down at her skirt again, maybe today wasn't the time for this. What if Lionel thought...she shook her head, mentally scolding herself, it shouldn't matter what he thought. Work was a seperate entity from any personal time they might spend together.
The crunch of gravel from the driveway drew her attention, alerting her to Lionel's arrival. She brushed her hands once more down her outfit and took in a deep, fortifying breath. It would be fine, she could do this. Lifting her bag, she rushed out of the house, her heels clicking against the wooden porch as she carefully made her way down the steps; gravel wasn't the easiest to navigate in heels, especially when you weren't actually used to them. Seth was waiting by the car door, and he gave her a warm smile of greeting, "Good morning, Mrs Kent."
"Seth, I've told you before to call me Martha," she replied. He glanced meaningfully at the interior of the car as he opened it and she gave a short laugh. "Next time then," she told him.
"I'll keep it in mind. We should be in Metropolis in about 45 minutes depending on traffic," he informed them both, as Martha slid gracefully onto the large seat.
The car door shut with a resounding clunk, and Martha glanced over to the opposite corner of the limo, where Lionel was reclining, his eyes dark as he watched her. Her head ducked and she scrambled for her seatbelt, clicking it into place before she looked over at him again. "Good morning," she greeted him after a drawn out moment.
Lionel's mouth quirked into a small, half smile. "Good morning, Martha." His eyes flickered up and down her form, the neat black suit, the red blouse, her slim, crossed legs and the black court heels, one of which was currently tapping nervously against the base of her seat. It was the only sign that belied her otherwise calm and collected exterior. "You're looking well."
"Thank you. Is there anything you'd like to go over before we get to the office?"
"No, I read over the rest of your thoughts, they were vey insightful." His eyes glanced back at her legs, it was a shame that she had kept them hidden for so long, there would be many a woman who would kill for legs like hers. "How was the rest of your weekend?"
"Fine, I caught up with some housework, nothing exciting." She wanted to cringe at her words, no doubt he would find them banal. "I suppose you bought a small country or took over another multi-million pound empire," she managed to tease.
He chuckled. "No, truth be told I was rather distracted." His eyes met hers and his smile turned almost predatory. "Everytime I looked at the sofa in my office I was overwhelmed with thoughts of an attractive red head."
Martha felt a rush of heat in her cheeks and knew that she was blushing, she glanced hurriedly at the passenger partition and was relieved to see that it was closed. "Lionel!" she hissed. "You said work would be kept seperate."
"We're not at work yet, nor are we discussing it," he pointed out.
"That's a technicallity and you know it."
"Life is full of technicalities," came the easy reply. He unclicked his seatbelt and moved swiftly so that he was suddenly seated next to her. He cupped her face, leaning into her as his lips brushed hers, kissing her softly. "I can go back to my seat if you'd like," he told her.
She relaxed slightly as he touched her, surely that should be the opposite she thought dazedly. Surely she should shrink away from him, insist on professionalism, not wrap her arms around him and slid her hands into his hair as she pulled him closer to her.
Lionel's hand ran up her leg, sliding under the material of her skirt and he smiled, breaking their kiss as he murmured deeply, "Bare legs, how daring."
"I ripped my only pair of tights," she admitted.
For a moment Lionel was drawn back to the difference between their lives, he couldn't imagine Lillian, or any other women in his life having just one of any item of clothing. Then her mouth was on his again and he simply didn't care, after all, what did it matter?"
They simply kissed, their hands exploring what they could without removing clothing until the car slowed. Martha pulled away. "I think we're here," she told him breathlessly.
Lionel sat back, unable to stop himself from grinning at the sight of wantoness that was Martha kent sprawled across his back seat, her skirt rucked up to her thighs, her hair mused. "Pity."
Martha shot him a warning look as she pulled her skirt back into place and patted her hair back into some form of respectability. "Your tie is crooked," she informed him.
He chuckled as he straightened it, the car door opening just as he finished, causing Martha to jolt. He waved his hand, eyebrow arching as he told her, "After you."
Slipping gracefully out of the limo, Martha shot Seth a small smile of thanks, relieved that his expression was unchanged, that their activites of the journey seemed to have gone un-noticed. Lionel stepped out, standing beside her as he remarked with a wide smile, "It looks to be a promising day."
Frowning at her, rather terrible shorthand, Martha squinted as she tried to make out what on earth that squiggle was, she hoped that it was simply a lapse in memory and not a sign that she needed glasses. An optician's bill was the last thing she needed. As she drew her lip between her teeth, holding the paper at a short distance, she a made a noise of triumph as she figured out what she was looking at.
Her desk was within the outer sector of Lionel's sanctum, an area of oppulence, thick carpeting and dark oak furntiture, her computer top of the range. It's almost warm atmosphere a stark contrast to Lionel's office, which was all steel and glass, the floors dark marble. The design was no doubt to lull others into a false sense of security before they entered the lions den. Still, for her at least it was a comfortable working enviroment.
On that thought, the door to the main corridor flew open and Dominic West stalked angrily into the room, his face twisted with irritation. "Unless it's urgent Mr Luthor doesn't want to be disturbed," she informed him.
His mouth twisted into a small snarl. "I'm not here to see him, I'm here to see you."
"And to what do I owe that pleasure?" She asked dryly.
"You made me look like a fool, I didn't appreciate it."
Martha sighed, she knew nothing good would have come out of Lionel's caustic comments to Dominic in the meeting. "I just did my job." She didn't add in that perhaps if he had done his then her findings wouldn't have made him look as bad.
He gave a nasty, humourless laugh. "Your job should be limited to answering phones and making coffee, I don't know why he lets you near anything else." His eyes flickered derisively over her. "You're just a small town, country hick," he spat. "I hope you're not foolish enough to think that he sees you as anything else."
Enough was enough, Martha decided as she got to her feet. "I think you should focus less on what my job is and more on yours. You could even try doing it for a day, rather than strutting around here as though you own the place."
"Very well said," came Lionel's voice from the doorway.
They both turned to see him standing there, his expression dark, inscrutable. Dominic's bluster vanished, his shoulders dropping as his voice took on that almost whining tone that Martha couldn't stand. "Mr Luthor, I didn't see you there."
"Clearly."
His eyes darted and he licked his lips nervously as he tried again, "I was just saying to Mrs Kent-"
"I heard exactly what you said." He took one small step towards them. "And I agree with Mrs Kent, that you should get on with your own job, while you still have one."
Lionel's last threat hung in the air and Dominic's eyes widened. He'd always held nothing but confidence in his postition here, he'd been the one to make threats, not receive them. His eyes slid back to the new assistant that was making his life here more uncomfortable by the day, he wondered what it was about her. She was attractive, but not Luthor's type, he didn't do wholesome. His mouth curved momentarily in distaste, before taking on a well practised subservient expression. "Of course, Mr Luthor.
Martha watched as Dominic turned on his heel and left, a wave of disquiet sweeping over her. She glanced back over at Lionel who's jaw was set in a terse line, he looked over at her and some of his tension eased. He waved a hand towards his office. "I'd like a word, if you could spare a moment."
"Of course." Martha followed him into his office, standing by his desk, she heard the thud of the large door closing behind them and the click of the lock. She turned to face him, her eyes scanning his thoughtful expression.
"You handled Dominic well," he commented.
"I'm used to his type, the ones who think the world owes them a living because of who they are, because their family is part of the elite."
"I always forget that you grew up here."
"I assume you read that in my background report," Martha remarked dryly.
He chuckled, not an ounce of shame showing on his features. "It's important to know my employees. Although I admit past noting where you were born and your impressive education, yours was brief."
"There's not much to tell."
"Oh, I very much doubt that." He took a step towards her. "You seem to have put the cat amongst the pigeons, you're forcing some of the others around here to up their game and they won't thank you for it." He took another step, closing in on her. "I on the other hand am very appreciative. His hand reached out, curving around her neck, letting her hair flow over his fingers, his thumb rubbing the curve of her jaw. "I'd like to take you out, as a...thank you for all your hard work."
Martha couldn't decide if she loved or hated the effect his close presence had on her. "Do you take all of your employees out?"
"Only the ones who save me millions on a business deal, and they've been few and far between of late." He kissed the pulse point of her neck, and smiled when he heard her sharp intake of breath. "We have meetings all day Thursday and then more early on Friday, it would make sense for us to stay in Metropolis overnight. That way I can take you for dinner, to the opera, the ballet, whatever you'd like and then back to my appartment."
She managed a soft laugh. "I can't stay in your appartment Lionel."
"No one would know, I'd book a hotel room in your name."
"And if we're seen out?"
"A business dinner."
His tone was confident, but then why wouldn't it be? If Lionel wanted something to remain quiet then it would and he had no reason to fear. She tried to rationally consider her option as his mouth teased her neck. Clark had his own life, he would likely be out or sequestered in the barn, which would mean she would be left trying to busy herself, block out her thoughts. Why shouldn't she take this one risk? It was dangerous and foolish, but she had played it safe for so long. "Ballet," she told him after a moment. "I haven't been in years."
His eyes flashed triumphantly, "Ballet it is," he told her, one hand moving to her side and slipping under her blouse, fingers lightly stroking the bare skin underneath. He smirked as she swallowed heavily. Pushing his advantage he stroked his hand over her taught stomach and upwards, curling his hand so his knuckle brushed against her sternum. His mouth back to teasing her neck.
Despite herself, Martha let out a small moan, her eyes fluttering shut. "We shouldn't, the blinds are open."
"I can fix that." Lionel reached out and pressed a button on his desk, causing the blinds to whirl into life, darkening the office into a dim light as they closed. With that done, Lionel brought his other hand up from the desk and began deftly unbutton her blouse. Her bra was black cotton, simple and something he would normally find unexciting, but he found everything about her alluring, and he took a moment to admire how it contrasting against the paleness of her skin. His fingers traced across the smattering of freckles that decorated her collarbone.
She sighed, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him to her, kissing him deeply. This was madness, this what she'd sworn to herself she wouldn't do and yet here she was, doing it anyway. "A suspicious person would think you planned this," she told him breathlessly as she broke the kiss.
"And I would take credit for it if I had," he replied. He pushed her boluse to her shoulders, pulling her bra straps down with it, enough to let her breasts slip out of the cups, his hands catching them, caressing mouth moved to the corner of her jaw, trailing soft kisses along it. He ran the pads of his thumbs around her nipples, feeling them pebble under his touch.
One of Martha's hands shot out, steadying herself on the desk, the other reaching up, cupping Lionel's cheek. Her spine arched involuntarily as his thumbs and forefingers pinched her taut nipples, a gasp falling from her lips.
His hands moved, sliding slowly down her front, brushing over sensitized skin and down her thighs until he reached the hem of her skirt. He dragged it up, almost agonizingly slowly, until it was hitched up around her waist.
Hands staying on her hips, he kissed her, nibbling softly on her bottom lip, before slipping his tongue into her mouth. Her hand curved around his head, tugging him closer. He kissed her until she was gasping for breath against his mouth, her breasts crushed against his chest they were so close. He pulled back, not missing the tiny whimper of discontentment that escaped her lips.
Hands back on her hips, he lifted her onto the desk so that she was perched on top of it. His smooth hands hands slid to the bare skin of the top her thighs, fingers stroking the soft skin. His eyes raked over her form, her red hair loose and beginning to frizz, her cheeks flushed red, blue eyes glazed. And despite the fact she was still wearing all her clothing she was almost completely exposed to his gaze, her bare breasts heaving as she tried to drag in more air, her blouse and bra both hanging loosely at her sides, while her skirt was still hitched around her waist. He knew it would take him a long time to top this sight, that he would think about her like this everytime he was in his office.
He pushed her underwear to one side and leaning forward he kissed her again, swallowing her moan. His fingers traced the damp skin of her inner thighs, moving up to her centre. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers dipped into her wetness, his thumb tapping gently against her. Lionel pulled back to watch her, sliding two fingers into her and curling them towards her stomach, watching in satisfaction as her breathing turned into high pitched pants, her fingers curling ineffectively into the desk as her hips writhed on his hand. Pressing more insistently on her, he rubbed his fingers inside of her.
Martha felt her eyes close again, she couldn't keep them open. She ground herself against his fingers, barely cognizant of the fact she was moaning. Her back arched, she was so close. She felt him lean forward, he kissed her hard, increasing the pressure of his fingers as he did so. She was almost there when he pulled away, and she made a noise of discontentment. She heard the clink of his belt and she levered herself onto her elbows, her nimble fingers closing over his hands, helping him. She pushed his trousers over his hips, her hands slipping into his boxers, finding him hard against her hand.
He steadied himself, his hands on her hips as he pulled her forward, thrusting into her, groaning against her mouth. His thrusts were hard and fast, but she met his pace, her fingers gripping at his shirt. His fingers slipped between them, teasing her. She arched and he kissed her again as she gasped against him, her back arching as she tightened around him. He didn't hold his control for long after that, a few more thrusts and he pressed deep against her, a harsh groan escaping him.
Moments passed, his mouth pressed against her neck as her fingers circled his shirt clad shoulder. "That wasn't exactly keeping it out of work," she remarked after a moment.
"No," he admitted. He hadn't planned this, hadn't thought it through when he'd touched her. He'd meant what he'd said, he kept work seperate, the women he'd had, the women he involved himself with were never associated with his work; until her. He didn't want to dwell on that thought.
Her hand pressed lightly against his shoulder and he stepped back carefully. "I should clean up," she told him.
"Of course, the washroom is just through there." He waved his hand in the direction and watched as she somehow managed to slip gracefully off the desk. As the door closed with a click behind her, Lionel began to right his clothing. He let out a deep sigh, a frown crossing his features, he was unused to losing control, the only advantage being that Martha Kent showed no interest in exploiting that. He'd meant what he'd said, about wanting to take her out, they could hardly conduct a successful affair in Smallville, it had made sense to suggest some time in Metropolis, away from prying eyes. He fastened his belt firmly, he needed to get past the initial rush, to break the allure, what better way to do that than with an entire night spent together. After that he was sure that it wouldn't all seem quite as exciting.
Martha did her best to tidy her hair into some semblance of order, although she knew she would just have to let the flush across her cheeks fade by itself. "So stupid," she whispered to herself. What had she been thinking? She didn't even try to answer that. She didn't want to care, this was a fling, it would never be anything else and no one would ever know.
She straightened her blouse, checking that she was in order before stepping back into the office. The blinds were open now, and Lionel looked as though nothing had even happened. "I need to get back to work," she told him. "Those minutes won't transcribe themselves."
"Of course," he flashed her an easy smile. "I should be finished around five today. I'll arrange the limo to collect us around quarter past."
"Ok, I'll see you then." And with that Martha stepped out of the office and went back to trying to figure out her own shorthand.