"You were absolutely amazing tonight. Really! You get better every time you're up there," the man in the suit complimented as he met with the beautiful girl back stage. Tiny wrinkles near the sides of his eyes stretched out as he grinned at her in glee.

"I guess it just gets easier after you're use to pretending to be someone you're not for so long, Dean," she admitted, wiping some of the glittery eye shadow from her face in order to prevent it from stinging her eyes like it did so many times before. The whole experience was like Halloween to her. One long, exhausting Halloween party.

"What are you talking about?"

She stopped poking at her eye to stare at him, cocking her head to one side, as though it was obvious what she meant. "Electra?"

Dean lifted his eyebrows, then closed his eyes for a moment as he nodded. He rested his hands on her small, yet surprisingly strong shoulders and smiled with realization. "We've been over that before, Lana. It's just a name. Electra has more spice to it – people in Hollywood do it all the time."

"But this isn't Hollywood – it's nowhere near Hollywood. I just feel like I'm putting on a mask everytime I go out there. I'm not Electra. I never will be."

Dean pulled one side of his face into a half-smile and then wrapped one arm around her back, leading her down the hallway to her dressing room. "You know, way back in the olden days, names were considered to be sacred. So powerful, it was believed that if anyone found out your real name, they could have complete control over you. Many used shorter, more common names in order to prevent themselves from being at the mercy of someone else. They only told their name to people in which they had complete and utter trust. Husbands and wives shared a deeper connection because of it."

The subject of husbands and wives suddenly made Lana's stomach flip, but she hid it as best she could with an understanding smile.

"It's just a stage name, Lana. And, to put it quite bluntly, all those people out there couldn't give two shts about what your real name is. They wouldn't even remember it the next day. No one here is worth knowing who you really are. A little depressing, but true. Electra is what brings curious customers in, so that's what we go with."

She sighed and stared at the ground for the rest of the walk until she reluctantly stopped in front of her dressing room door. "I guess you're right." About both the customer part, and the depressing part. "So, do you need me to stay later tonight? Any requests?"

"Yes. Two young men requested you for a friend of theirs. He's sitting in booth #2."

She bit her lip, fighting the urge to tell Dean she just wanted to go home.

But she didn't. Years later, she would tell me a voice in her head had told her to stay at the club that night too, and although I've told her many times that I don't believe it, it's nice to think that maybe that's what happened. Maybe the voice's name was destiny.

And meanwhile, as Lana prepared to entertain her request, I slowly - very slowly - began to recover. Normal DJ music returned to the speakers and the people reverted back to their drunken, overly-happy selves. I'd almost fallen back into my glass-rolling phase, when I heard the clickity-click of stilettos nearby. My ears perked and my heart raced with anticipation and excitement even before I looked up and confirmed my guess of who was approaching.

My entire mouth became drier with each step she took. In reality she was making a quick advance towards me, but in my mind it felt like everything was in slow motion.

She dropped down opposite me in the booth, her eyes still capturing mine. Each blink she made…each flick of her twinkling lashes…somehow captivated me in a way I'd never experienced with any other girl before.

"Mind if I sit here?"

There was that wonderful, elegant voice again. I tried to answer her as best as I could, although my mouth still lacked saliva. "What? Um…ahem…uh, no…I don't…"

She could tell she had me wrapped around her finger. I kept trying to prove her wrong, but somehow the more I tried to mentally back away from her presence, the more she infected my mind. What was she doing to me? And why was she doing it?

"I couldn't help but notice you gazing at me earlier," she stated, casually moving the metal centerpiece back to it's original spot on the table, as though sitting across from a man who was obviously nervous out of his mind was a daily thing. That made me feel even more stupid - maybe this was a daily thing for her. I felt like a tiny goldfish with a shark on my tail that could catch me at any moment – it just decided to wait on making the death snatch for the pure thrill of the hunt.

"Well, I uh…you…" Swallowing still didn't help - only seemed to make her silently giggle a bit. That also wasn't helping. "…you were singing…in front of an audience…it's only natural that people stare at you…" Gulp. Damn, still wasn't working. I looked away from her enthralling eyes so I could work on the method of swallowing better. "…right?"

She gave me a devilish smile and nodded. "Stare, yes. But…usually," She leaned forward on the table, giving me a teasing view of her cleavage, which her dark dress revealed modestly, but nicely, "people only gaze when they see something they really…really…" she narrowed her eyes and stared at my nervous lips, "…desire."

"Ahm…" Gulp. Double gulp. Freakin' throat stopped working at the worst time ever! My stupidity and embarrassment only succeeded in making my entire face turn beat red. Maybe if I had more experience with pretty girls – or any girls at all really – I would've known what to do in a situation like that…how to act cool. How not to be that pitiful little goldfish, destined to get swallowed up at any moment.

I practically jumped out of my skin when she took one of my hands in hers. She felt as good as she looked. I couldn't even attempt at swallowing anymore. I just suddenly forgot how.

"Do you want to dance?"

"Dance?" My brain was definitely on overload. I wanted nothing more than to run out of that place screaming. The entire vicinity of my booth felt a hundred degrees hotter than a few minutes ago. I could tell the shark was going in for the kill. "I don't…I mean…I'm not very good at it…at dancing."

She smirked and let out a short laugh. "Then what are you doing in a club? That's kind of what people come here to do."

"A-Actually, I'm just here because some of my friends pushed me into it for my birthday – "

I tried to find them with my eyes on the dance floor in order to prove my story, when she suddenly emitted a loud shriek.

"It's your BIRTHDAY! REALLY! Oh, well, then I HAVE to dance with the birthday boy!"

Before I knew it, I was being dragged out onto the floor, shaking and trembling the whole way. I wondered why I couldn't ever just stop talking. It always seemed like I never said the right thing anyway. Whatever I said, it always came out creating exactly what I DIDN'T want to happen.

Still, it was only small at first, but there was that voice that came back into my mind…or maybe it was in my heart. Yes, probably in my heart. The beating of the club's music (now playing "Sexy Back" by Justin Timberlake) seemed to drown it out at first, but I could tell it was overjoyed. The rest of me thought it was insane, but the voice insisted that dancing with this girl would be one of the best experiences I would ever have. And somehow I rested everything on that one, tiny voice once again.

But the voice soon died away, as she had picked a spot on the floor very much surrounded on all sides by grinding couples, loosing their minds as they danced. The only place I could look that wasn't NC-17 rated was her face. She watched me, the smile she'd been wearing all night still shining on her perfectly glossed lips.

Both of her sleek arms wrapped around my neck as her hips rotated towards mine. My concentration on my own horrible dancing was continuously broken by her laughter as she looked at me – the tiny, cowering goldfish was officially sucked into the jaws of its predator. I tried matching her movements, but it wasn't helping. It seemed the more I tried to dance, the worse I got at doing it.

I looked over at a couple close to us who seemed to be more than pros at this very sensual hip dancing, but when I kept my eyes away from her for too long, one of her fingers touched my chin, guiding my eyes back to her. My heart raced, out of tune with the music's beat - out of tune with everything. Beads of sweat began to drip down my face. She grinned broadly, and moved in so close to me I could feel her harsh, hot breaths on my face. Her fingers slid down my tense cheekbones, meeting on my lips.

From there, she licked her own lips as her hands fell down my chest, toying with the buttons on my shirt. Slowly, she moved downwards…

My body was betraying me, especially the lower region. The small voice in my head, was growing louder, wanting something more. I was slipping away into the music…into the girl's amazing eyes…

Wait…what was going on…I didn't even know her name! I didn't even know who she was or what would happen after my voice got what it wanted. I was turning into those guys who gave no name or personality to their love…those guys who used random women for themselves…

"S-stop! Please, I – " I pushed her away, a little harder than intended. Her offended look hurt me, but I tried to think nothing of it. "Look, it's not you. I just…I'm not another one of these guys. I don't…I can't do this. I'm sorry."

"But – "

"No, I get it. This was something my friends put up to you, right?" I laughed at my own stupidity. How didn't I see this before? "Look, it's fine. Whatever they paid you, go ahead and keep it. You were wonderful at your job."

I walked briskly off the dance floor, but could feel her gaze on my back.

"Wait, please." She grabbed my hand, stopping me instantly. "It was obvious you weren't up for dancing and I forced you to anyway. I'm sorry. Can't we do something else though?"

I turned around, probably the dumbest move to make in a situation like that. I knew she'd convince me to stay if I looked at her again. She didn't even have to do that pouty thing she started doing with her bottom lip, although it helped her case a little.

I looked away from her sheepishly. What else do you do in a club?

Drink? Nah.

Gamble? No way.

God knows what in the rooms upstairs? I could barely breathe as it was!

Suddenly, I noticed the lit sign hanging up next to the DJ's platform – KARAOKE.

She immediately followed my stare and looked back at me in excitement. "You sing! No way!"

"Um...sort of. But I don't really do it in front of people…"

"Oh, I bet you're great. Come on, I want to hear you!"

I should've just said no and left. Once again, I said the wrong thing and got exactly what I didn't want. Big surprise.

"Randy! Randy, stop the music!"

"The Bad Touch" by Bloodhound Gang was cut short (thank God!), followed by a lot of grumbling from a lot of angry dancers. I swallowed, hoping none of them would blame me for the sudden halt in their musically erotic pleasure. I was positive that my singing was NOT a good replacement for that.

"Attention everyone!" She shouted into the microphone on the stage. "I've found a hot, young singer to do a little karaoke for us tonight. And as a bonus – it's his birthday todaaaayy!"

Almost everyone who was drunk or couldn't hear the speakers clapped, whistled or cheered (the rest just had a permanent "wtf?" look on their face). I could hear Andrew and Tucker's howling from the back of the floor. My cheeks retreated back to their cherry complextion.

She looked over at me and handed over the microphone with a smile. I tried smiling back but I think it just ended up looking like I was constipated. Singing. Singing in front of people. In front of muscular bikers who wanted to hear songs about women, money, and sex all night long. Gulp. GULP damn it! Gulp!

I searched through the karaoke machine near the microphone stand, tuning out the whistles from women with hardly any clothing and a few men in hot pink and too much makeup.

I finally picked the song and tried to get as comfortable as I could in front of the mike. I didn't want to look at Andrew or Tucker, so I turned to the only other person I "knew" in the club – Electra.

And then the song began, so my voice reluctantly followed in.

"I'm packed and I'm holding, I'm smiling,
She's living, she's golden, she lives for me
She says she lives for me
Ovation, She's got her own motivation
She comes round and she goes down on me
And I make her smile like a drug for you
Do ever what you want to do
Coming over you
Keep on smiling what we go through
One stop to the rhythm that divides you
And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse
Chop another line like a coda with a curse
And I come on like a freak show takes the stage
We give them the games we play, she said
I want something else
To get me through this
Semi-charmed kind of life
Baby, Baby
I want something else, I'm not listening when you say
Good byyyyee!"

As I sang, I kind of realized the song was a little boy-band-ish, but the audience didn't seem to care. It had a beat that they could dance to, plus the drunkards enjoyed joining in on the chorus of "good bye" (although a few thought it said "Go die", which I hoped wouldn't result in anything fatal).

My former dance partner seemed to be enjoying the music. A few guys joined around her, trying to get a dance. She happily obliged, but continued to look into my eyes after about ten seconds of dancing. For a moment it almost felt like I was the rocker guy on stage and she was my hot girlfriend, supporting me on the sidelines. Of course, I didn't know her name and we'd only met not even ten minutes ago…maybe I was wrong when I thought that alcohol couldn't affect me…

"And I want something else to get me through this life Baby, Baby
And I want something else, I'm not listening when you say
Good byyye! Good byyyeee! Good byyye!"

I was quite happy when the song ended. I smiled, thanked the crowd, and shuffled off stage, praying that no one would try to jump me because of my awful voice.

"That was a-MAZING! Your voice is so sexy! We should sing a duet sometime!" She smiled at me, bright and bubbly as always.

"Um, thanks. I don't really sing in public, though."

The next song the DJ put on was entirely too loud, so she didn't hear anything I'd just said. She just slid her arm around mine, not seeming to notice or care about my response.

A group of people began to form around us. I could smell the alcohol on their breaths as they congratulated me on my pregnancy, instead of my birthday. I decided to just say thank you. I wasn't very good at correcting drunks without getting an angry look or an attempt at a punch to my jaw. It wasn't very important to me anyway.

Somehow, however, my new posy of friends mingled back over to Booth #2 and before I knew what was going on, the only girl who knew it was actually my birthday shoved me into the corner of the booth, straddled me, and rested a warm hand on each side of my face.

"I believe the birthday boy is expecting his birthday kiss."

"Wha – !"

Smack. Electra's lips were attached to mine in a deep, overly-passionate kiss. I gasped for air less than a second in because I was so unprepared. All I could think about was how wrong this whole night was becoming and how stupid Andrew and Tucker were to sucker me into coming here. Was it possible to die from suffocation by a kiss? Because if not, I was almost sure that I would be the first to die that way. This girl had deadly kisses, no pun intended!

Suddenly, the girl's mouth abruptly broke away from mine. The group around us had since completely forgotten who we were and began some short of contest over who could hold a shot glass on their head the longest. The girl didn't seem to hear them, though. She just remained on top of me, staring into my eyes in the strangest way I'd ever seen.

"I've…never kissed anyone like you before…" She said softly. It was a different tone. I almost didn't recognize it as her voice. She seemed younger…weaker. Like her former voice, minus the layers of smoldering seductiveness.

I didn't know what to say, so I just stared back at her, breathing so hard she began to rise and fall with my chest. Her eyes looked odd too…something had left them somehow…

After a few minutes, she sat back, resting her butt on my knees. I tried to sit up a little, still leaning back on the corner of the booth, somewhat in shock. "Well…I've…I've never really been kissed like that before…" I studied her reaction with embarrassment. "….was it that bad?"

"What?" She seemed to be in a daze at first, but then shook her head with a smile. "No. No…you…you just…I mean…" her smile faded as she tried to explain, "…usually, when I give a guy a kiss, he really gets into it. But you…you were so…" her eyes flicked back and forth in mine, as though she were looking for something, before she sighed and continued, "…gentle. No one's ever been so…gentle before."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Do you want me to be more forceful?"

I had no idea what was next. Another kiss? Just sitting? Did I do something wrong and now she didn't know what to do?

"I…" She looked just as confused, so my assumption seemed to be true. I was suppose to get all into her tempting ways, and then get drunk and possibly do more with her in one of those private rooms upstairs.

Embarrassment. Again.

"Look, uh…I think I should probably go now…um…"

"Yeah…" She whispered, still in her new, weird, dream-like state. She wasn't taking her eyes off me and it was starting to freak me out a little.

"I'm sorry. I just…I had a good time. I mean, you were good. I mean…" Stop. Talking! "You're probably gonna have to…" I motioned for her to stand, which she blushed and did immediately. "Sorry again. I really am."

"No, it's fine. It's ok." She smiled and nodded.

I gave her a smile, and turned to go. Surprisingly, though, I felt a hand on my arm.

"Wait."

"Hm?"

"What's...what's your name?"

I tried not to look so shocked that she would ask me that. I mean, how many times does a woman of the night ask men what their names are?

Still, I was a gentleman, so I answered, "It's Clark. Clark Kent. Yours?"

"Mine?" She looked even more shocked than I had. Her mouth opened, then closed. Then she licked her lips and muttered softly, "Lana…Lang. Lana Lang."

"Lana Lang." Mmm…the name sounded so pretty, much better than what the man in the suit had called her, I couldn't help but repeat it. "Well, goodnight, Lana. It was nice meeting and…uh…dancing with you."

"Yeah, you too."

I gave her a friendly nod and then got myself the heck away from there! As soon as I was out of her eyesight, I let out a long gush of air from my mouth.

And that was, my dear readers, by far the weirdest, hottest, Clark Kent birthday. EVER.

Little did I know it wasn't over just yet.