Chloe's kung-fu grip is no match for Clark's strength and power, yet he delights in the pleasure of being led, confident he'll have the upper hand in a mere moment. He plays along following her through the crowd, also enjoying the scenery of Chloe's derierre.
"Clark," Chloe says stopping short, blinking her eyes with concern as she turns to face him. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Never better," he says curling his lips, his eyes flickering in the bright sunlight. "How are you feeling?" he asks, leaning back to take a better look at her assets, her low riding jeans seeming to be an open invitation. Without giving her a moment to respond, he decides to see for himself, squeezing her butt, his animal like growl punctuating his pleasure.
"Clark!" she squeals, jumping free of his grasp, her eyes flying wide open, reeling out of shock from his firm hand on her body. "What was that for?" she asks, knowing right after the words flew out of her mouth they were the wrong ones to speak, for the look on his face proved he was about to show her.
His large frame fills the space between them, without hesitation he cups his large hands around her backside, thrusting her petite frame up to meet him face to face. Their eyes lock, gazing deep into eachother, each searching for something different.
The thrill of being held in Clark Kent's hands was leaving Chloe almost breathless. As he exhaled she gently inhaled, breathing in his air, tasting his sweet breath. Their proximity and locked gaze was dizzying her, making it seem as though they were the only two people standing on the earth. The euphoric sensation of being prey to his will made her wonder how long he would hold her there, a deep part of her praying it would be an eternity.
As her heart pounds in her chest, the echo fills her ears with a steady thud. Despite its volume, she could still hear her own thoughts swirling through her head, their stark contrasts confusing her more than the situation.
The primal part of Chloe wanted to submit to his power, lose herself in his eyes. She could feel herself tingling with anticipation, deeply longing to escape into the scenario that was unfolding before her. Yet, despite how many nights she had laid awake dreaming that somehow, one day, Clark Kent might finally see her as an object worthy of his desire, she knew with every fiber of her being that such a change in him could not arise without being triggered by something. The sensible side of Chloe knew something had happened to him, altering him, causing him to behave in this manner. For within his eyes she did not see a familiar reflection. She saw no respect, no friendship, no tender sincerity. She saw only an unbridled lust for pleasure. A pool of heat flooding from his eyes, sending waves of warm desire through her body, making her almost powerless to his needs.
Her will to find the truth outweighing her most basic human urges, she firmly plants her hands on his shoulders, wiggling herself free from his grasp. Having enough of the defiant act, he rolls his eyes. releasing his hands, sending her towards the ground. He turns away from her, leaving her stumbling to find her footing on both the ground and in her predicament.
"Clark, we need to talk," she calls out to him, dusting the seat of her jeans off, desperately trying to keep up with him as he disappears into the crowd.
As he plows through the market his large frame parts the sea of people, knocking them away with his impenetrable body, disregarding their presence, not looking back at the ones who screamed at him in protest of his actions.
"I'm sorry," Chloe says several times, passing sympathetic eyes to the ones unfortunate enough to have stood in his path. She bends down to pick up a woman's brown bag of vegetables, handing it to her. "He's just in a hurry," she says, trying hard to make excuses for Clark's behavior.
Clark stops in front of one of the booths, something on the table catching his eye. He reaches over, snatching it up, a sly grin creeping across his lips. In a quick motion he slides off his undershirt, revealing his perfectly chiseled chest, his skin beautifully bronzed and glowing in the warm sunlight.
Chloe freezes dead in her tracks, her mouth open, gazing at the adonis standing before her. In her mind she can feel her hands gliding down his rippled abs, her knees shaking at the prospect of it. "Oh my God,"she breathes to herself, taking her eyes from the top of his broad shoulders, down his V-shaped form to his waist, cursing the flannel that ever was so bold to cover such luxury.
He raises his arms to put on his new found treasure, a solid black T-shirt whose cotton knit stretches over his muscular chest like it's painted on.
Despite her disappointment that any material had to cover his skin, the black shirt was nice change from his typical americana palette of red and blue. "A bad boy in black", she thinks to herself, arching her eyebrows in delight. She feels her mouth watering, so she quickly swallows, unblinking as she keeps her eyes on him.
He pulls his shoulders back, and for a brief moment Chloe thinks the skin tight t-shirt might be reduced to shreds by the flexing of his massive muscles. He smoothes the shirt against his chest with his hands, pleased with his new threads.
"That'll be five-dollars," the man at the booth demands, holding his hand out for payment.
Clark curls his lips into an sadistic grin, tossing his balled up undershirt in the man's face. He turns his back to Chloe and the man, starting back into the mass of people before him, not offering a cent of payment.
"Well, that ruins it," Chloe says out loud, now seeing the pudgy little Pillsbury doughboy screen printed to the back of what otherwise was a very sexy black T-shirt.
"Hey, you're going to pay for that!" the man demands, shaking his balled up fist in the air, his voice drawing the attention of the other merchants, but lost on Clark despite his super hearing abilities.
Chloe, snapped out of her fantasy and now frantic that Clark just added kleptomania to today's list of unexplainable wheaties weirdness, tries her best to diffuse the situation. "He didn't mean to do that. He doesn't know what he's doing," Chloe says, trying to keep a close eye on Clark who was disappearing quickly into the crowd.
"He didn't mean to?" the man asks sarcastically, not buying Chloe's excuse.
"I promise he really didn't mean to steal it, he's just..uh...special, okay? " Chloe offers, digging into her purse for the cash to cover the cost of the shirt.
"He doesn't look retarded," the guy says, not buying Chloe's cover story.
"He's not retarded," she says, pushing a five-dollar bill into the man's hand. "He's just not himself today."
She hurriedly runs after Clark, catching up with him just in time to see him snatch a pair of black Ray Bans right off a poor guy's face, pushing him down to the ground with enough force to knock the breath out of him.
"Clark!" she screams, in shock that he would jump to such extremes to accessorize. She goes to the breathless man on the ground, staring wide astonished eyes towards Clark who without hesitation puts on his new sunglasses, not caring that he threw someone to the ground to obtain them. He stands erect, his smile possessing a heir of evil that unsettles Chloe. Letting out a laugh he turns the doughboy towards her yet again, not caring that he was leaving Chloe to put out the fires his bold actions ignited.
Lois sits atop the table in the Kent's booth, holding a half eaten peach in one hand, sucking her fingers clean on the other. Her lips delight in the sweetness of it, and apparently her friend from earlier in the day is enjoying the show she is unknowingly putting on for him. She takes a bite, sending the succulent fruit's juice down her chin, dotting her tank top and chest with the sweet nectar. Looking around first, she lifts the bottom of her tank top up to her mouth, using it as a napkin, the act revealing her tanned abdomen to half the market. Still feeling covered in juice, she slips her finger down into her top, doing her best to wipe the sticky liquid from her skin with her moist finger.
"Want to borrow my tongue there, Peaches?" the guy calls out, now just feet from her.
Lois sets the peach down beside her, her green eyes lighting up, her lips tightening into a smirk. How sad that out of all the women to torment on a day like today, he chose the one who not only could lay him out flat, but would take immense pleasure in doing so.
She hops off the table, placing her hands on her hips, swaggering towards him, using her chest as a weapon as she backs him into a corner.
"Care to say that again?" she asks him, indignantly blinking her eyes at him, just waiting for him to say the right word.
"You're a little spitfire, ain't ya?" the guy says, like a moron thinking that he's winning here.
"Spitfire? What did they teach you that in redneck 101?" Lois quips.
The man obviously is at a loss on how to respond, not having a clue what the numbers meant at the end of her sentence.
Lois smiles, this is almost too easy for her. Just when she's going in for the kill, her prey is snatched out from in front of her by Clark's powerful hands.
"You need to learn some manners," Clark boldly orders, holding the unfortunate fellow by the back of his shirt, his feet dangling above the ground.
Lois shifts her seething glare from Joe Redneck to Clark, her blood boiling, fuming that Clark in some delusion of heroic grandeur took it upon himself to swoop in and save her.
"I appreciate the whole Errol Flynn routine you got going here, but I am far from a damsel and even further from distress," Lois says, glaring up into his eyes.
"Okay, if you think you're doing okay," Clark drops the redneck to the ground, "please continue," he says flashing a beaming smile, crossing his arms across his chest waiting for the show.
Lois is eager to get back to scorning her unwelcome suitor, she digs her feet in to the dirt and cocks her head forward aggressively.
"You broke my rhythm, farmboy," Lois deflates, unable to think of an insult for the redneck.
Clark grabs the redneck's shirt and lifts him back off of the ground.
"So, you don't mind if I continue?" Clark asks.
"I most certainly do! Clark, I don't know what they teach you out here in the sticks," Lois begins, Clark being bored by the prospect of a lecture drops the redneck again. "But, in the real world, stepping in like you just did robs a woman of all of her power, and I, for one, don't like being powerless."
"Can I go, now?" the redneck asks. Clark picks him back up to shut him up.
"I don't know what part of the world you come from Lois, but chivalry is not dead. Women out here tend to get off from being saved."
"The day I swoon at a tall, blue eyed saint swinging down to save me, is the day I eat your sizable boots," Lois says, finding her groove.
"You two should really be left alone," the redneck intones pitifully. Bored with him, Clark wheels around and tosses him on his way. When Clark spins, Lois gets a good look at the back of his shirt.
"Tough shirt you got on there, Pillsbury," Lois says, cracking up. When Clark turns back to her, she gives him a playful poke in the stomach, her finger finding a way to trace the contours of his rock hard abdominal muscles, lingering a little longer than it should. She breaks away from him, a little embarrassed by it.
"Fine, well since you seem to be more than capable to handle the onslaught of peach lovers around here, I think I'll leave you to it," Lois says, giving him a slug in the arm.
"I'm going to go ahead and take this back before you go and take the credit for it," Lois says, digging into his pocket for the small white box with the bracelet she bought for Chloe.
The second the red kryptonite jeweled bracelet leaves him, he stumbles backwards, blinking bewildered eyes towards her.
"Lois?" he says with his voice cracking. He takes off the black sunglasses, getting a better look at her with unhindered eyes. He looks down at his shirt, looking back at her completely bewildered.
"Clark, you look like you did when I first met you," Lois says, not in the mood to deal with a lost puppy again. "Don't tell me, another case of amnesia," she adds, rolling her eyes at him. "You really need to stay out of the sun."
"Clark! There you are," Chloe calls out from across the aisle, breathless from her desperate attempt to keep up with his superspeed.
"Oh crap," Lois says, her eyes widening, aware she's holding Chloe's surprise gift in her hands. Without thinking she quickly stashes it down the front of Clark's pants, igniting once again the red flames in his eyes, just in time for Chloe's arrival.
Lois groans, realizing what she's just done. Squinching her face up into a twist and squealing "iccckkkkk," she wipes her hand off on Chloe's shirt.