THE SEX-FILES
by Chloe Sullivan a.k.a. C.S. Minty
Real Author: Ali Lane (call her Nikki, she'll cry) (and no, her name's not actually Ali Lane,
it's a term of endearment)
Smallville is for sure the centre of all things paranormal. The epitome of odd. The birthplace
of science fiction. Land of the weird, home of the strange.
And no one seems to realize it.
Except us. Clark Kent, Pete Ross, and Chloe Sullivan, the Three Musketeers of Smallville
High. Or when Clark's a no-show, which is often, and I've had a sufficient amount of caffeine,
we're the Two Stooges. Or when Pete's busy hitting on his current crush of the week, which is
also quite often, the Odd Couple.
Well, let's not say couple and get me started on that...
Anyway...we're an interesting trio if there ever was one. Let me fill you in.
I'll start with me. Chloe Sullivan, newspaper editor, optimistic cynic (yes, that's an
oxy-moron, but I'm all about contradiction), and Queen Of Sarcasm. If it can be said, I can
scoff at it, if it can be done, I can find something negative about it (and still insist
everyone looks on the positive side), and if something shady's going down, you can bet I'll be
there, writing a tell-all expose.
And if it involves Clark (which most things seem to), I'll be busy taking pictures. Uh, for
evidence, of course.
Then there's Pete. Great sidekick and friend, overloaded with hormones, and Prince Of
Sarcasm (I won't say king because of what that would suggest about us-Lex Luthor would really
work much better...oh, if only Clark had more of a biting wit...not that I think of him as more
than a friend, because I don't). Right, so, Pete. He's faithful (I want Clark, I want Clark, I
want Clark...no I don't! Really, I dont...), uh...yeah, Pete's a great guy, alright? I really
don't know what else I can say. (Clark and Chloe, Chloe and Clark, Mrs. Clark Kent, Mrs. Chloe
Lois Sullivan Lane Kent, Chloe Kent, Chloe Sullivan-Kent...hey, who wrote that? Not funny! Uh...yeah,
you don't believe me, do you? I'm not interested in Clark, really!)
Then Clark.
Um...maybe we should skip Clark and I can get to my point. Or I could just talk about how
gorgeous he is. How those deep blue eyes with their intense gaze...
Ok, fine. I admit it. I want Clark. Bad. I want to rip off that flannel shirt and those faded
jeans and...do very ungodly things that need not be specified. Let us suffice to say I am
drooling all over my keyboard right about now.
My dreams are often filled with images of me and Clark on top of my desk. Or against the Wall
Of Weird. Or...anywhere would be good, really. But those are the key places I tend to think of.
So, once again, my raging hormones (I'm a teenager, that's how it goes) have taken over, and
another story has become an exploration of my feeligs for Clark...or a verbal sex romp, if you
will.
See you on the dark side! And if you see me in your dreams, don't let Clark's pants hit you
in the face while you're wondering if what we're doing is physically possible or not.
A/N: I really don't know what to blame for this fic, it just happened.
Oh yeah! It was that newsletter!
I was supposed to do a newsletter for a school project, and I was writing a bunch of joke
Smallville articles for back pages.
Then I ended up not getting any of them done in time, and I probably failed the assignment, but
this one was real fun, so I finished it anyway.
And this is what the final product was, as I no longer had to try and censor myself on it for
school-appropos purposes.
by Chloe Sullivan a.k.a. C.S. Minty
Real Author: Ali Lane (call her Nikki, she'll cry) (and no, her name's not actually Ali Lane,
it's a term of endearment)
Smallville is for sure the centre of all things paranormal. The epitome of odd. The birthplace
of science fiction. Land of the weird, home of the strange.
And no one seems to realize it.
Except us. Clark Kent, Pete Ross, and Chloe Sullivan, the Three Musketeers of Smallville
High. Or when Clark's a no-show, which is often, and I've had a sufficient amount of caffeine,
we're the Two Stooges. Or when Pete's busy hitting on his current crush of the week, which is
also quite often, the Odd Couple.
Well, let's not say couple and get me started on that...
Anyway...we're an interesting trio if there ever was one. Let me fill you in.
I'll start with me. Chloe Sullivan, newspaper editor, optimistic cynic (yes, that's an
oxy-moron, but I'm all about contradiction), and Queen Of Sarcasm. If it can be said, I can
scoff at it, if it can be done, I can find something negative about it (and still insist
everyone looks on the positive side), and if something shady's going down, you can bet I'll be
there, writing a tell-all expose.
And if it involves Clark (which most things seem to), I'll be busy taking pictures. Uh, for
evidence, of course.
Then there's Pete. Great sidekick and friend, overloaded with hormones, and Prince Of
Sarcasm (I won't say king because of what that would suggest about us-Lex Luthor would really
work much better...oh, if only Clark had more of a biting wit...not that I think of him as more
than a friend, because I don't). Right, so, Pete. He's faithful (I want Clark, I want Clark, I
want Clark...no I don't! Really, I dont...), uh...yeah, Pete's a great guy, alright? I really
don't know what else I can say. (Clark and Chloe, Chloe and Clark, Mrs. Clark Kent, Mrs. Chloe
Lois Sullivan Lane Kent, Chloe Kent, Chloe Sullivan-Kent...hey, who wrote that? Not funny! Uh...yeah,
you don't believe me, do you? I'm not interested in Clark, really!)
Then Clark.
Um...maybe we should skip Clark and I can get to my point. Or I could just talk about how
gorgeous he is. How those deep blue eyes with their intense gaze...
Ok, fine. I admit it. I want Clark. Bad. I want to rip off that flannel shirt and those faded
jeans and...do very ungodly things that need not be specified. Let us suffice to say I am
drooling all over my keyboard right about now.
My dreams are often filled with images of me and Clark on top of my desk. Or against the Wall
Of Weird. Or...anywhere would be good, really. But those are the key places I tend to think of.
So, once again, my raging hormones (I'm a teenager, that's how it goes) have taken over, and
another story has become an exploration of my feeligs for Clark...or a verbal sex romp, if you
will.
See you on the dark side! And if you see me in your dreams, don't let Clark's pants hit you
in the face while you're wondering if what we're doing is physically possible or not.
A/N: I really don't know what to blame for this fic, it just happened.
Oh yeah! It was that newsletter!
I was supposed to do a newsletter for a school project, and I was writing a bunch of joke
Smallville articles for back pages.
Then I ended up not getting any of them done in time, and I probably failed the assignment, but
this one was real fun, so I finished it anyway.
And this is what the final product was, as I no longer had to try and censor myself on it for
school-appropos purposes.