Author's Note: Welcome to the second short story in the "Dictionary" collection! This one made me bump my rating for this set up to "T." You might think it's kinda tame, but this is one of the raciest things I've written yet! (blushes) I'm so easily embarrassed. Boy, work can be boring, huh? Sometimes you just need a little lift to get you through the day... Thanks to all of my reviewers for "Aegis," and enjoy!

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Dictionary

Chapter Two

Word: Tryst

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Chloe clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter as she watched her husband practically dance his way over to Perry White's office. He'd gotten his article done—with hours to spare!—and was obviously looking forward to not being shouted at. Paper in hand, Clark rapped on the door to the editor's lair before disappearing inside. Chloe repositioned her chair so she had a better view of the office and really did laugh when she saw the tall man come back out looking like a whipped puppy, a Post-it note clasped between his fingers. Once Clark was safely back in his workspace, she picked up her phone and rang his desk.

Before he even said hello, she whispered, "Eighth floor, paper supply room in the left-side hallway, fifteen minutes." She grinned widely as he cast a glance over her way and replaced his handset.

Ten minutes later, Chloe picked up her purse and walked purposefully out of the newsroom, looking for all intensive purposes like she was on the trail of a big story. She stepped onto the elevator and jabbed the correct button, waiting patiently for the car to move. Once she arrived on the eighth floor, she glanced around briefly and ducked into the darkened paper supply room when the coast was clear. Then she sat on a crate of glossy ad-quality stock and waited.

A few minutes later the sliver of light that came in under the door was blocked. The handle turned and a dark figure slipped quickly inside, closing the door silently. Instantly Chloe launched herself forward, found a pair of lips in the dark, and kissed passionately.

A little while (or an eternity—it was hard to tell passage of time with no light about) later, Clark's deep voice gasped, "Hi."

Chloe, her eyes fairly adjusted to the gloom, replied, "Whew. I'm glad you weren't just some intern making a paper run. That could have been very embarrassing."

Clark laughed quietly and kissed her again. "And what am I supposed to think, hm? I walk into a darkened room and find myself sexually assaulted by some random hot reporter?"

"Sexually..." Chloe managed to laugh between short kisses, "...assaulted?"

"Most certainly," the man replied. "I could probably...build quite the...case against...you." He pulled away and smirked. "Like the time you pinned me down on your desk when we were working late; or the incident when the elevator shorted out between floors and you had practically stripped me by the time it started moving again; or all the times you've slapped my butt suggestively as I walked away. That's more than enough to file a huge harassment complaint against you."

"I have needs, Clark. And if they involve me and you going totally clothing-optional, then all the better for you," she said slyly, tugging at his tie.

"I have missed you since Perry 'reassigned' our desks so we're farther apart," he admitted, running his hands up and down the cloth covering her hips. "But why the sudden summons?"

"You looked so cute and forlorn leaving his office, I just had to cheer you up," Chloe laughed, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him again. "What happened in there?"

"Just more negative reinforcement. I give him my article and he whips out a pad of sticky notes and starts jotting down a bunch of assignments he wants done by the end of the day 'or else'. Didn't even give me the satisfaction of hearing one little 'Nice work, Kent.'" Clark muttered petulantly. "See if I ever turn anything in early again."

The woman grinned in the dark, whispering "Nice work, Kent," before kissing him hard, effectively stopping all conversation for several minutes.

Then the door handle rattled unexpectedly and this time it really was an intern making a paper run. Flicking on the lights, the young man shuffled through some boxes before finding the one he wanted, dragging it out of the pile, and hefting the weight onto his shoulder, murmuring vague curses under his breath as he turned off the lights and left the room.

As soon as the door shut, a burst of laughter came from the vicinity of the ceiling, where Clark and Chloe were floating horizontally, trying to be inconspicuous. It had worked, apparently, and as Clark slowly descended, Chloe squealed, "I told you! Nobody ever looks up! It's like this weird thing with people...the horror movies are all correct about that!"

"Maybe we should do a big study on it," Clark chuckled, lowering Chloe until her feet touched the floor again. "You know, breaking news—interns don't notice people hovering against the ceiling. Huge story, that. Maybe even Pulitzer-worthy."

The woman slapped his shoulder lightly. "How long 'til you have to be back at your desk?"

"Oh, I'm good for maybe another twenty minutes before someone comes looking for me," he responded, not loosening his grip on her waist. "You?"

"About that," Chloe smirked.

"Fantastic," Clark said, reaching into his pocket with one hand and turning off his cell phone when still holding her with the other. "We should do this more often."

"Let's not waste time with chit-chat, hmm?" the woman replied, turning off her cell phone as well.

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Twenty minutes later, Chloe came ambling back into the newsroom, attempting to look—and very nearly pulling it off—as innocent as a lamb. She was approached by a breathless Jimmy Olsen, who spluttered, "Lois! Have you seen your husband? Mr. White wants him; I can't seem to find him anywhere, and his cell phone goes straight to voice mail!"

Chloe pursed her lips and said, "Clark? Let me think..." as if he was just one of her many husbands who were apparently missing. She appeared to ponder for a moment before shrugging. "Can't say I've seen him for a while."

Jimmy ran off, flustered. Minutes later when Clark appeared, the younger man practically tackled him and dragged him off to see Perry. Clark came back scowling with yet another Post-it, this time stuck right in the middle of his forehead. Obviously the editor has been none too pleased with the tall man's disappearing act.

Chloe waited a few beats after Clark sat down to pick up the phone. "Same place, same time tomorrow?" she whispered throatily.

Clark shot her a wicked grin from across the room and replied, "Yes, ma'am. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

Then both hung up and got busy writing their articles, but not before making little marks on their calendars.

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Eeep! It's over! That was Tryst (definition: an appointment to meet, especially between lovers). Hope you enjoyed!