Chapter 8
It was almost midnight; Clark was relaxing, reading a book. With both his job at the Daily Planet and his work as Superman, it was rare for him to have the time anymore. Foulcault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco had been sitting on his shelf for almost six months. It had been a gift for his last birthday, he didn't even remember from whom. He'd heard good things about it, but never seemed to have the time to read it. Changing his clothes into something more casual, just jeans and a flannel shirt, he picked up the book and sat down in a comfortable chair. Tonight, he'd decided he would start it. Propping his bare feet up on the coffee table he began. That was four hours ago. He hadn't meant to spend this much time with it, but once he started Clark found himself drawn in. As cliché as it sounded, he literally didn't want to put it down. With his powers, he could have speed read it by now, but relaxing in a comfortable chair and savoring a well told story had it's own simple charms. It was a knock at his door that finally pulled him away from the story. He glanced up and noticed the time, a little surprised that it was so late. Promising himself he would finish it later, he went to the door and opened it. Standing there was Zatanna.
"Hey, I saw your light, so I thought I'd stop by," she smiled. She fumbled with her hands, a little nervous being there.
"I'm glad you did, I was just reading," Clark said, returning her smile. "Come on in."
"I don't want to interrupt you if you're really into the story," she offered, tentatively stepping inside. She noticed he was informally dressed as if he was in for the night, and wondering if maybe this was a mistake.
"Don't be silly, I'm glad you stopped. How was the show tonight?"
"Good, good," she ventured, a little nervous at being in his apartment for the first time.
"Would you like to sit down, maybe have a drink,' Clark offered.
"Yes, please,' she replied, turning to look at him.
"White wine, okay?"
"Yeah, whatever you have."
"I'll be right back, why don't you make yourself comfortable," he said, moving towards her. "Here, let me take your coat."
"Okay," she timidly said, letting him slip the light raincoat off her shoulders and hang it up. He stepped back and gave her a look, seeing she was still in her stage outfit. She noticed and blushed a little bit.
"I was on my way back to the hotel, when I saw your light," Zee explained.
"I wasn't complaining, you always look amazing in that," he remarked, smiling as he headed towards the kitchen.
"Thanks," she smiled, dipping her head to cover her slight blush. She hadn't planned on stopping tonight, but when the taxi passed his building, she suddenly had a desire to see Clark. It had been almost a week since their date and while they spoke on the phone several times, they hadn't seen each other in person. Slipping off her tux jacket and top hat, she ran her fingers through her hair as she took in his living room. There were pictures of him and what she guessed was his family. She smiled as she looked at some of the ones of him as a child. He was a cute kid too, she thought to herself. Moving to his bookshelf, she looked at the titles, some she'd heard of, some she hadn't. It was a very Spartan apartment, almost minimalistic in it's layout. It seemed designed for comfort foremost, with an eye towards utility. She'd been wondering what it would look like since their date and was pleasantly surprised that it was nothing like what she pictured. Zee had gone back and forth between how she imagined it. When she pictured it as Superman's apartment, she thought of sort of futuristic layout, lots of chrome and steel like the bridge of movie starship or something. The alternative she'd imagined was sort of a man cave, lots of wood paneling with sports related memorabilia on the walls. In both versions she imagined a huge television would dominate the place and she was happily surprised that wasn't the case. The sound of him returning made her turn. He was holding two glasses and a bottle of wine in one hand and a pizza carton in the other.
"I figured you might be hungry," he started, "afraid all I have is cold pizza, but it is from the best place in town."
"Well, at least I got one detail right about how I pictured your place," she laughed.
"You should have stopped by yesterday, I was swimming in fresh fruit, vegetables and lots of other healthy things," he joked, ushering her over to the couch. They sat together, with some space between them, but comfortably close. He poured them both a glass from the bottle and handed her one. They gestured as if to toast and took a sip. Setting her wine glass down, Zatanna picked up the book from the coffee table.
"Is this what you're reading," she asked.
"Yeah, I just started it tonight."
"I read this, it's great!" she said, with genuine pleasure, "I especially loved the part…"
"I haven't finished it yet," he warned, stopping her. "Please, don't ruin the ending for me."
"Give me some credit, I wasn't," she playfully smiled. "I was just going to say I like when the main character's wife explains to him what the real meaning behind the 'so called' sacred numbers are."
"I haven't got to that part yet," Clark admitted, taking a sip from his wine.
"Now as far as the ending goes," Zee said, teasing.
"Hey!" Clark said in mock shock, covering his ears. "I'm not listening."
"All right, I give," Zee laughed.
"What? I can't hear you," Clark continued, holding his hands over his ears.
"Stop, I know you could hear what's playing on a car radio a hundred miles away. You're not fooling me."
"Yes, but it did get you to stop," he pointed out, taking his hands away. "And the song playing on a car radio one hundred miles away is In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel."
"Really," she said in surprise, "you can hear that? I was just making that example up."
"So was I,' he offered with a laugh.
"Oh, ha-ha, Clark, you think you're pretty funny, don't you," she said in pretend disappointment.
'Well, I tend to tune most sounds out by habit," he admitted, "speaking of music, would you like to listen to some? "
"Yeah, something mellow, I'm still coming down from the excitement of the show," she replied. Clark got up and put on a CD. He sat back down just as the music started.
"Miles Davis," she asked with a smile.
"Yes, Kind of Blue," he answered, "It always reminds me of late nights after it's rained. There's a clean sound to it. I guess maybe it's the romantic in me."
"I like it. There's a warmth to jazz that comes through the recordings."
"I have current stuff, too, I just thought this might be that mellow sound you were looking for."
"It's beautiful, just right," Zee smiled, picking up her glass and tasting her wine. They sat there together, letting the music work it's magic. Clark happened to notice she gave a little wince as she stretched her feet out, wiggling her toes in her high heels.
"Why don't you take those off," he suggested, "you must have been standing in them all night."
"I have," she admitted, "and they're a little tired but they look good on stage. A theater manager told me once that my legs were my best feature and I should play them up. Showmanship, he called it."
"Well, I agree with him, you have great legs, but your other features aren't bad either," Clark commented.
"Are you flirting with me, Clark," she asked, blushing a little at his compliment.
"Just telling the truth, you're a beautiful woman," he replied, but add when she gave him a look, "maybe a little."
They both blushed now, and neither one knew what to say. Trying to break the awkward silence Clark gestured for her to lift her feet.
"What," she asked, not sure what he was suggesting.
"You said your feet are tired, why don't you let me give them a massage? It's one of my hidden talents."
"I don't, I mean, I couldn't, "she stammered, feeling a little flush at the suggestion.
"Oh, come on, you're here, so relax," he countered. "I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman. You can trust me."
"I know,' she nodded, a little quicker than she meant to. "Well, okay, if you don't mind."
Cautiously, Zee raised her feet off the ground, turning on the couch so her feet rested on his lap. When he tenderly slipped her heels off, she felt herself getting goose bumps. His strong, assured fingers slowly massage her feet it seemed much more intimate than she would have imagined. It felt almost like a caress as he stroked her ankles, easing the tension in the muscles. Part of her was relaxing, but another part was getting aroused. Zee could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, as she watched him continue.
"So is this one of Clark Kent's super powers," she asked, trying not to focus on the feelings being stirred up inside of her.
"Well, I have a few that not many people know about," he smiled, continuing her massage, his fingers skimming up to her shapely calves and then back down to her delicate feet.
"Oh, there are others? Like what?"
"Well, let's see," he said, acting as if he were thinking, "I do a mean barbeque and I've been told my coleslaw is heavenly."
"I real Renaissance man, I see," she chuckled.
"You have no idea," he playfully said. "Oh, I can always spot the most uncomfortable person at a dance club. It's usually me."
"I've seen you dance, you're good," she objected.
"Slow dancing, sure, but I'm afraid I have the white man's curse when it comes to fast dancing."
"The white man's curse?"
"Yes, my dancing skills diminish the closer I am to the dance floor. A hundred feet away, I've got all the moves, but as I get closer, my body starts to freeze up until when I'm on the dance floor, I can barely shuffle back and forth."
"It sounds tragic," she laughed, "you should see a doctor about that."
"Sad to say, I think it's incurable," he shook his head with a laugh. "I'm not alone with it either. Millions of men suffer in silence with it every day. It's heart breaking, really."
"I never realized this burden you all carrying," Zee teased.
"Few due," he said in mock seriousness, "it's how country line dancing started, you know. Give us a pattern of steps and a simplistic beat and we'll be there."
"So you're a country line dancer, too," she giggled.
"Alas, no. People already think of me as some hick from the sticks, I don't want to add to it."
"I never knew your life was filled with such tragedy."
"I don't like to burden others," he joked, turning his attention back to the massage.
"Oh, that's the spot," she gasped. Clark used light pressure to ease the stiffness. Zatanna seemed to relax and even made little moans of enjoyment. Clark had been trying not to notice, but as he continued, he couldn't help become very aware of her. Her long tapered legs were right there, encased in those fishnet stockings. He absently let his eyes wander up her body and found himself thinking how damn sexy she looked. He'd been thinking about her all week, too. Seeing her in person brought home how beautiful Zatanna was. He'd started this massage as just a nice gesture to break an awkward moment, but as he touched her feet and lower legs, he found himself getting turned on by it. Control was something he always practiced, but being this closer to her was testing his resolve. The little noises she was making had an erotic quality to them that just added to his rising desire. The room suddenly seemed hotter for some reason. Before he made a fool of himself, Clark decided to pull back.
"Okay, all done," he said, trying to smile, even though his voice was a little shaky.
"Oh," Zatanna said, a little disappointment creeping through. "Thank you, um, I really liked it."
"I aim to please," he replied, blushing a little as he picked up his wine glass and took a long drink. Zatanna noticed this and wondered if he was feeling the same emotions she was. He certainly seemed attracted to her, perhaps he was getting aroused just like she was. As this thought crossed her mind, she reached for her own wine glass and took a long drink, as well. The sexual tension between the two made for another awkward moment.
"Ah, so, um, ah, I noticed-noticed you don't have any sports trophies or ribbons in your place, Clark," she fumbled to say, wanting to shift the conversation away from what they were both feeling.
'Um, what? Oh, yeah, yeah, no, nothing like that," he managed to say, pulling himself from some rather vivid thoughts about Zatanna.
"I would have thought you were a jock in high school," she observed, "captain of the football team, that sort of thing."
"No, sorry to disappoint, but I never played any sports in high school," he replied.
"Weren't interested?"
"No, just the opposite," he said, shaking his head, 'it's just that it really wasn't fair for me to play. By that point in my life, I knew pretty much what powers I had. My folks didn't think it was right for me to play. I might have hurt someone."
"So you didn't play anything?"
"No, just a fan," he shrugged, "I watched others play."
"I'm sorry, that must have been tough for you at that age."
"Yeah, a little bit, but I understood it eventually. In the long run I think it helped. It made me focus on other things besides my natural gifts."
"I guess that explains the job as a reporter," she suggested, "you've been an observer most of your life, haven't you?"
"I suppose," he admitted, 'but how about you? I imagine you were a cheerleader, probably the most popular girl in school."
"Hardly," she laughed, "I moved around a lot when I was young. My dad seemed to always be on the road and I went with him. We never stayed anywhere too long."
"It must have been hard making friends," he asked.
"Well, I suppose," she admitted, "it seemed like just when I was starting to fit in, we'd move and I'd start all over again. Don't get me wrong, I loved being with my father, but it would have been nice to stay in one place for awhile."
"And you're still on the road."
"I guess I'm just a born Gypsy," She offered, a weak smile on her face.
"I guess that's something else we have in common. Not the Gypsy part, but that we were always sort of outsiders watching others."
"Maybe I should think about becoming a journalist," she gave a small laugh.
"That would be a waste," he told her, "you're a talented magician. I saw how the crowd responded to you opening night. Even after the show was over, people hung around just wanting to talk about how much they like your show. That's a rare gift, you should be proud of that."
"Thank you, Clark," Zatanna said, truly touched by his words. She had worked hard at her craft and took pride in it. To hear him say that people appreciated it was gratifying more than words could say.
"Maybe I will try a piece of that pizza, after all," she smiled.
"I should warn you, once you taste it you'll want more," he laughed. As she looked at him the thought crossed her mind that his words could apply to many things in the room, most noticeably, him.
"I'll risk it," she said in return.
Daily Planet
Lisa was just coming to work, and for once she had a smile on her face. Being part of Jimmy's plan was so unlike her, yet it was exciting. Truth be told, she was still a little surprised she was part of it. Women like Lois Lane had always intimidated her. Lois seemed so confident, beautiful and assertive, all the traits Lisa lacked. Now that was about to change, Lisa told herself. She was taking charge of the situation and being assertive herself. Today marked the beginning of the new Lisa, look out world, she thought to herself. She confidently pushed the button on the elevator and the doors immediately opened for her. It was like the world saw the change in her too. As she stepped on the elevator and pressed the button for her floor, she felt like her hero Cathy from the comics. No more nervous Lisa, she told herself, I'm in control!
"Got it!" a voice said, as a hand thrust through the closing doors to stop them. As they opened, Lisa found herself face to face with Lois Lane. Lisa felt herself start to tremble, as Lois laughed and got on the elevator, confidently punching the button for her floor. Lisa prayed someone else would get on, but the door closed and it was just she and Lois. Keeping her eyes fixed on the numbers above the door, she tried to will the elevator to go faster. Wild thoughts that Lois was on to them flashed through her mind and just added to her anxiety. She could kill me right here and no one would hear me scream, Lisa thought in panic.
"You're a friend of Jimmy's, aren't you," Lois said to her. Lisa was too afraid to look at her and just nodded yes, while pushing the button for her floor again.
"You work down in the comics, right," Lois smiled, trying to make conversation.
"Yes," Lisa managed to say. She's toying with me; she knows everything, flashed through her mind.
"So you and Jimmy," Lois said with a suggestive hint to her voice.
'What-What about us? We're not doing anything," Lisa gasped.
"Hey, relax," Lois said, moving closer to the young girl. This is it; Lisa thought to herself, my life is going to pass before my eyes.
"I was just going to suggest that you two look sweet together," Lois started, reaching out to touch Lisa. When Lisa saw Lois' hand come towards her, she panicked and then the world went black.
"Hey! What the hell," Lois shouted, as the young girl fainted dead away. Lois struggled to catch her before she hit the floor.
Daily Planet – Same Moment
In the bowels of the paper Milton from the obits was just putting the finishing touches on some additional material to use on Lois Lane. He hadn't told Jimmy or the others about it, but this was his chance. Oh, Lois had been dismissive of him, like she had the others, but that wasn't what interested him. What interested him was Clark Kent. Maybe if they took Lois down a peg or two, Clark would see who really cared for him. Me, thought Milton, I'm the one that's right for him. She doesn't deserve someone as special as Clark Kent. Lois was his rival for Clark's affections, he just knew. How could a great guy like Clark notice Milton with Lois around? You don't know it yet, but there was a new player in the game, Miss Lane, Milton thought with a smile. Once Clark gets a look at my hearse, I mean Black Cadillac wagon, he'll know Milton means business. This little scheme of Jimmy's is a sign, Milton thought. It's destiny that Clark and I be together. With a wicked smile, Milton imagined telling Lois, if this hearse's a rockin' don't come knockin'. It's all falling into place for me, Milton happily thought as a customer came in to post an obit.
