Dropping in on a fuzzy blue towel

*

Wednesday Afternoon, Oct 16

"Is Mr.. Luthor in?"

"Yes. Whom might I say is calling?"

"Isis Ross. I'm expected."

The butler raised an eyebrow ever so slightly.

"Trust me. The worst that can happen is you get to kick me out," she said with a satisfied smile.

Wordlessly, he let her pass. "Wait here."

"No prob, buddy-boy." Isis turned to the mantle over the hall fireplace. A cut-crystal figurine caught her eye and--

"Don't touch."

Isis swiveled around. "Me? Touch? Never." She kept her eyes innocent-wide even as he left her to her own, stand-still-don't-touch devices.

The butler returned only to find she had wandered into the library. "Mr.. Luthor will be down shortly," he informed her.

Smiling sunnily Isis thanked him. "What's your name by the way? I may have to come back and calling you 'The Butler' just seems kinda rude. Besides, you already know my name."

"Matthews, Miss."

"Delightful. Thank you, Matthews. It is all right if I wait here in the library, isn't it?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Wonderful. That will be all."

He left her, closing the library doors behind him.

*

Lex grabbed at a nearby towel, not bothering to dry off. While he was sure Isis would wait, there was no promise of how long. She seemed to be more stable than he remembered. Less prone to wild mood-swings. But perhaps more dangerous for it. He had impulsively given over the workings of a very important business deal to her and couldn't let her get out of hand with it now. Or know just how important it all was.

Why not? he asked himself.

Lex shrugged the question off.

The bathrobe, warm and inky black, hanging behind the door, was out he decided. The towel was good enough and quicker besides. Matthews had announced Isis just as he was getting out of his fencing garb. "I'll see her," he'd said quickly. "Tell her something."

His shower had been quick, mindless. Single-minded. What had he done giving he language, the body, of this proposal . . .to someone he'd hardly known when they had been acquainted, and hadn't had a conversation with in four years, before last week. What had she done with his corpse? How had she prettied it up for him? How did she look. What had she been wearing beneath her pajamas the other night and why didn't he know firsthand?

What had she done with the proposal?

Lex gave himself a quick glance in an unfogged corner of the mirror. He checked himself even though he never needed to. Still damp, he noted. The humidity-free air of his bedroom would dry him out.

Skin pebbling gently in the cooler air, Lex's bare feet sank into the plush carpet.

"Black Lex?"

Lex Luthor's head shot up. Across the room Isis Ross sat nestled in one of his wing-chairs, turned to face the bathroom door.

"You know," she uncurled her legs, "for some reason I'd always pictured you in a fuzzy blue towel. Hmm."

Anger flashed through Lex. How had she . . .? How dare she . . .? "How did you get up here?" he asked, schooling his face. His body.

"I walked."

"How did you get past Matthews?"

Isis smiled pleasantly as if they were already discussing business. "There's more than one way out of your library."

"I take it you found it," Lex said, unfixing himself from before the bathroom door. With liquid grace he strolled to his bed as if he were not naked.

"I've always been a curious kitty."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Kitty's got nine lives and this one's come back." Isis smiled. "We haven't played those lines in a long time."

"I seem to remember it being more. . ."

"Malicious?"

Lex tilted his head. "Not exactly the word I was looking for, but good enough." Picking up his shirt, wine-red, from the bed where it was laid out with his clothes, he turned to Isis. "Excuse my nakedness," he said conversationally. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Oh no. No need to apologize. And this is a level of Lex-nakedness that is not unfamiliar."

"Funny, somehow I don't have an memories of similar . . .Isis-nakedness."

"I think I always left the party before we could get that far."

"Ah." Lex was torn: to kick out or not to kick out. It was a minor indecision.

"Yes. Well speaking of 'Ah:' a whole new level of Lex-nakedness."

He glanced at Isis. Her cheeks were flushed and the heat in her eyes burned across the room. Lex wondered whether it was with her famed ice or rare-seen fire.

He told her: "Turn around."

Casual smile never wavering, Isis rose and turned to face the small fire crackling behind her. "Self-conscious Lex?"

Mind working furiously, he didn't answer but, rather, concentrated on pulling on his clothes enough to maintain some semblance of seriousness. "So why are you here Miss Ross?"

" 'Miss Ross' is it? Lex, I'm hurt. Oh, I'm sorry. Mr.. Luthor. You asked me to come."

"I don't seem to remember scheduling an appointment."

A thick manilla envelope slid across the bed. Lex caught it before it fell off.

Isis walked around the bed. "I thought you might want it sooner versus later," she said.

Lex had the folder open and was quickly glancing through the paperwork.

"You're not done dressing, Mr.. Luthor."

Glancing up from the summary sheet to her and back, Lex wondered aloud what she was going to do about it. He felt Isis hover over him, thrumming with restrained energy that roiled and danced against his skin like insects; like fairy-fingers tapping on his skin. Lex dragged his eyes from the work to the woman. "What?"

"Matthews told me not to touch," Isis said with an ironic smirk.

"I'm telling you you can," he retorted, giving the paper a closer perusal.

Isis' hands skimmed up Lex's body, closing buttons on the way. "Wearing a tie?"

"No."

She slid one crooked finger along the column of his throat. "Darn, I was hoping to choose one for you." Smiling too sweetly, she refused to meet his eyes when he tried to make contact. "Put down the papers and give me your wrist."

Lex obliged, quickly pulling out another sheet of paper before dropping the rest onto the bed.

Closed his hand around hers when she drew a finger across his palm. "Finished then?"

"No." With a sharp tug, Isis pulled Lex flush against her body.

Staring at her, he stood immobile as she tucked his shirt into his slacks: back first, working her way forward. "Done."

"Your hands are still in my pants," Lex noted wryly.

Isis slowly removed herself. She smoothed his clothes. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"You know I don't . . . But I've already had one shower."

One childish pout and a pair of fire-bright eyes: and Lex found himself responding to it. To her.

Suddenly she was on the bed, pulling papers and mini-discs out of the manilla envelope. "So what do you think so far? Sound good? I have all the crap you gave me --- no I don't want it, but thanks --- and some alternate versions, which may or man not sound better. Depends on your mood."

Lex took he proffered sheaf from her. He glanced through them. "Shall we discuss this downstairs?

*

"Your research is exhaustive

Isis nodded over her coffee. "A lot of it is what you gave me."

"Don't downplay your contribution," Lex admonished.

"Hardly. But I don't need my ego stroked either. Well today I don't. So, which version's your pleasure?" Isis yawned.

"Tired?"

"Yes. Stop changing the subject. Which one?"

Lex skimmed the three documents before him again. "The second."

Her raised eyebrows asked why.

"My father will like it."

"I thought you were in charge of the fertilizer plant. That LL Senior was hands-off."

" 'LL Senior' doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me," Lex said sardonically.

"Must not be very far. So when do you put this to your Board of Directors?"

"First thing this Monday morning."

"Have--"

"I want you to be there." Lex silently congratulated himself: Isis was stunned numb, staring at him over her cup.

"Um," she set down the cup hastily, sloshing its contents, "rewind and play that back for me slow, 'cause I thought you just said you want me to go with you to your board meeting."

"I did."

"Might I ask why?"

Lex was asking himself the same question. Hadn't he just been trying to devise a way to get Isis out of his business affairs? And yet here he was inviting her further in.

"Is your father going to be there?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Not unless Dad decides to fly in from Fiji. So will you come with me?" Lex leaned back in his executive chair.

"You still haven't told me why you want me to."

"Who better to explain the finer points of this deal than the writer herself?"

"Hey, no one's supposed to know that," she protested jocularly. "I'm your ghostwriter. Just another nameless, faceless, pay-checkless peons ensuring that markets for LuthorCorp . . .fertilizer will remain so. To the exclusion of all others. Wait," Isis tapped her chin thoughtfully, "wrong proposal. That we have-- Excuse me, that you have exclusive rights to certain chemicals found only in LuthorCorp, uh, . . .manure, and the rights to all subsequent research.

"You know," she continued, "it won't be much of a coup d'etat coming from me, L--, er Lex. Anyway, they're your Board."

Lex steepled his fingers. "I thought you might like the practice. You are the heiress to the Gotham Michaels' fortune. Answer something for me, Isis: Rumor has it that your inheritance stipulates you must change your name from Ross to your mother's maiden name of Michaels. Is it true?"

"You're starting to sound like a reporter, Lex."

"My general manager's daughter is a reporter for the school paper. Perhaps you've heard of her."

Isis let out a frustrated snort. "Stop playing games, will you? That's my job. I'll go with you to Metropolis--"

"Excellent."

"On two conditions. One, that you let me use your computer tonight for the grant research I'm doing for the high school."

"You're doing research for the school?"

"Didn't I just say that? And stop trying to get me off topic. Second condition: that Principal Kwan doesn't need me to sub that day."

Lex leaned forward on his desk. "Doesn't sound like a fair deal to me. I may satisfy condition one but still lose."

"And if you don't satisfy condition one, you can't win."

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Ross."

"You ask an unusual favor, Mr. Luthor."

They stared at each other for a long sixty seconds. Lex spoke first: "Looks like I'm stuck."

"If you want me to go with, yes. And don't try to finagle Kwan into giving me the day off. He didn't want to hire me in he first place."

"But he likes me," Lex said with mock hurt.

Isis reached across the desk and swatted his arm. "There's the bratty bastard I sorta knew and kinda enjoyed in college. Now let me at your DSL."

Lex rose from his seat. "It's all yours." A distracted "Mmm hmm," was he received as she slipped into his still warm chair.

Matthews was waiting outside. "Will Miss Ross be staying for dinner?"

"Probably, although I believe she'll prefer to take it in the study. Have a tray brought up around 7:30."

"Very good, sir. And shall I make preparation for her staying the night as well?"

Lex smirked. "Not unless you're going to bring a pillow and blankets with dinner. I very much doubt that we'll be seeing Miss Ross out and about this evening." He turned to go to his upstairs office. "On second thought, Matthews, do have bed-stuffs brought with dinner. Miss Ross seems to have a . . .penchant for falling asleep on my furniture."

*

Pre-Dawn Thursday, Oct. 17

Five. Five grants that were just perfect for Smallville High.

Wired by all her success, Isis dared glance at the computer clock. She'd been avoiding it, know that if she knew how late it was she'd be inexplicably too tired to go on. Isis rubbed her eyes and checked the time again. Obviously the caffeine must have been wearing off, because she could swear the monitor was saying it was 3:02 AM. Wait, make that 3:03. Her eyes searched the room for the Grandfather clock she knew lurked in one of the corners. It read three-ish. As did her watch.

"Crap," she muttered, reaching for the cold toast with butter she had asked a maid for hours ago.

"Lex is probably asleep," she said, gathering her avalanche of printouts and handwritten notes. "Heck, all of Smallville's probably asleep. Hmm, no traffic. Bonus," she said through a yawn. But that was the only sign of exhaustion she gave. A restless energy coursed through her. She made a face at the bed-stuffs Matthews had left for her.

Isis needed to do, to move, to be. Sleep? Bah. What she needed was a drive. Preferably one that would take he straight to her attic-room, but if a short detour was made on the way . . .

She drove with the windows open to help stay awake. She sped down country roads and took curves at 80 85 90 miles an hour. The Benz 430 wasn't her little Cabriolet and it certainly wasn't one of Lex's Italian sports cars, or even her black-cherry Mustang sitting in a Gotham garage, but it was handling quite nicely. She was wondering if the sedan could handle that controlled spinout trick a friend had demonstrated once when she decided to stop.

Either someone had forgotten to harvest this field or, for some agricultural reason beyond her ken, it wasn't ready yet. The wheatbarleysomething swayed in the chilly October night air. Isis was suddenly aware of just how cold it was. She pressed her bare hands to her cheeks: they pulsed, hot and alive and wind-burnt. She couldn't feel her nose.

Isis was pulling off her boots and slipping into beat-up, comfortable sneakers -- the most important part of her emergency car kit -- before she gave her motives terrible thought. She'd brought the narrow flashlight - "Torch" she said softly to herself - from the glove compartment and was off as soon as the trunk slammed shut. Turned around and remote-locked the car.

The wheatbarleywhatever whispered around her. If Pete had been with her, Isis might have reminded him that, whatever it was, it was all just all grass. And Pete would probably let her know just how well he knew that fact. He'd tell her exactly what they were walking through. He wasn't in 4H for nothing.

But Isis was alone. With the tall grass whispering around her. Thinking no thoughts. Living in the whisper of the tall grass parting like water before her. Hearing heavy on the breathing. Heavy on the crickets. Heavy on high grass white noise sea-calming whispers. And the foot-crunch of dead things.

Time to turn around, was Isis' first thought after so many no-thoughts.

Crunching back toward the car, Isis didn't hear the night rise up around her, look at her, and reach.

*

a/n: the title, and much of the inpiration for this section, came from another fanfic on ff.net. i can't remember the title or the author, i do know that it was chlex and that there was a fuzzy blue towel--and that lex didn't wear it for long. and that it was an interesting story i never got to finish. in honor of you....whomever you are.