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Career Girl Blues	By : Scribe Category: DC Verse Comics > Superman Views: 5447 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Superman, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Career Girl Blues
Chapter Seventeen
White Void, Blue Serenity, and the Beginning of Sexual Exploration
The sun is high when I wake up again, streaming through the bedroom window. And I'm alone. I just lie there for I don't know how long, staring at the ceiling. I'm not thinking of anything in particular. Hell, I'm not thinking of anything, and that's not normal. I've never been one of those Zen type people who can wipe their mind. I'm always chewing on something, mentally, no matter how small. It may just be... hell, the difference in how Americans and English pronounce 'aluminum' ah-lue-min-uhm as opposed to al-lue-min-ee-um, but there's always something that could pass for thought rolling around up there. Not now.
It's like the inside of my skull has been emptied, and whitewashed. Like those seamless snowy indoor expanses in that old George Lucas flick, THX something. Pre Star Wars. You never could tell where the other side of the room was. It could have been a mile away, or just beyond your fingertips. You never really knew till you walked into it headfirst.
I stare up at the ceiling and watch it dip and drift, closer then farther. I feel the whole world falling away, till I'm the only solid thing in it. Nothing else exists. I kick off the sheet, because it's weight, tying me down to the solid world.
I can feel. That's the problem. I can feel. I shouldn't. There should be some way to stop that.
And suddenly there's one tiny speck of color at the periphery of the blinding, soothing white. Blue. Cool blue. I must turn my head, because the color, just a smear before, focuses, coalesces.
A little bottle. The bottle is clear, but the contents are blue. I find that I can move. I reach for the blue, my arm drifting across the infinite space, slow as the spin on a constellation.
I feel again. My fingertips brush smooth plastic. A little work, and they wind around the small, solid object, and I possess it, draw it closer.
I examine it, turn it, seeing the small, round, blue disks that tumble inside.re ire is writing on the outside, which I scan, but do not absorb. Something about supervision, interaction, limitations... Nonsense.
I know what's inside the bottle, I can tell. It's peace, numbness, absence. Just what I need to wipe out that final bit of feeling, because my whole body has started to throb and burn, and I can't keep things white and clean much longer. Already I think I see a dinginess creeping into the corners.
The worst thing is the voice. I know I'm not really hearing it, not with my physical self. But it's there, nonetheless, whispering. *All mine. You'll be good, won't you?... tease... I like a fight... Other things, all meaning the same. More pain, more dirt. I need something to make it be quiet, and this...
My hands are slow and clumsy, but I manage to get the top off, shake the bottle. Cool blue spills into my palm. Oh, yes, blue for serenity. Just make the voice and the dark go away for a little while, sweet blue. I raise my hand to my mouth, closing my eyes, seeing white instead of dark.
I hear... something... Then there is noise, and light, and color all at once. Someone has an iron grip on my wrist, and the skin, raw from the nailbrush, screams. The blue serenity spills, scatters over sheets that are twisted, and smell of medicine.
"How many did you take?" It's a man's voice. I try to turn away, reaching for the blue dots scattered around my knees. My other wrist is taken, and I hiss at the sting. Both of my hands are pressed together, held together with one big hand. I am pressed back onto the mattress, the sheet covers me again, and another large, warm hand pats my face gently. "How many, Scribe?"
"Not nearly fucking enough." My hands are still pinned, but I feel sweeping motions at my side. Then there is the tick... tick... tick/I> /I> of pills being dropped back into a bottle, patiently counted. Grudgingly I say, "None, all right? But why don't you just go back where you came from and we'll change all that, hm?"
No response. Only the steady tick of pills being dropped back into the bottle. I give up on recapturing the near perfect emptiness, and slit my eyes open, letting in the world.
I study the large, dark haired man in horn rims who is trickling the pills back into the bottle with one hand, while keeping my wrists pinned with the other. "Hi, Clark."
"Good morning, Scribe." His voice is level. "Twenty-eight, and the bottle holds thirty. That's about right." He caps it one handed, and puts it in his pocket. "Why did you have all of those poured out?"
"I was trying to pick just exactly the right one to take. Or two. Or three. I just couldn't decide, they were all so pretty. Why don't you let me see them again? I'm sure I could make up my mind this time."
"No, I don't think so."
"Where's Jimmy and Lois?"
"At work. I have some personal time coming, so I volunteered to stay with you. They've both called, to check."
"I don't need a babysitter.""You just tried to swallow a handful of strong tranquilizers."
I just stare at him. Finally I say. "Maybe you should let go of me. Someone coming in and seeing this might get the wrong idea."
"I'm not sure I should after what you just tried. In fact I'm not sure you shouldn't be in a hospital right now."
"Clark, you know what happened? They told you?" He nods, gravely. "You know what Diana Prince did, the rope?" Again he nods, and his eyes are hard. "Clark, if you put me in a hospital, I'm going to freak out. I freak out, they're going to want to sedate and restrain me. That means straps. They restrain me, and I promise you, I will go nuts, and I might not be able to come back. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, not...not really. I just wanted everything to go away for awhile. You know?"
His grip shifts. He pulls down, till my hands are in my lap, and he's not binding my wrists, he's just holding my hands. "All right. You have to promise not to hurt yourself any more."
"Okay." I wince a little. "I'll just sit back and enjoy what I've already done. Hooo. Yoow, ow, it's a good thing that this dimension has crappy hot water heaters. Back home I'd be in a burns unit right now, I think."
"You were pretty mean to yourself."
"I don't know why I'm not screaming right now, come to think of it."
"It's the medicine. Superman mixed up a special formula. It can't be mass produced, but with a DNA sample, he can concoct super healing cream that soothes and will repair damage in a day or so that would normally take weeks."
"How'd he get the DNA sample?"
He blushes a little. "The brush..."
I have a mental image of the pink stain on the white tiles when I dropped it, and flinch. "Yeah, okay. I see that. Thank you."
"I'm sure he was happy to..."
"Thank you."
"I'll tell him."
"Clark... Kal El? Thank you." He goes very still, staring at me. I sigh. "I must still be a little doped up. I wasn't going to say that."
"You know...don't you?" He's very quiet.
"Um, yeah. I do. I told you before that there were things that were known where I come from. This is one of them. Don't worry, it stays right here." I pull one hand free and make a zipping motion over my mouth.
He makes a gusty sigh, and rubs his face. "It's actually kind of a relief. So there's at least one person around here I can be myself with." He smiles ruefully. "Whoever that happens to be."
I solemnly pat my chest and intone. "My brother. Welcome to the land of confusion. Not knowing who you really are is a bitch, ain't it?"
"Yes, it is. Do you want some breakfast?"
I shake my head. "Not right now, maybe later."
"Want to go back to sleep?"
"No, had enough of that. The white might come back. Sit with me for awhile?"
"Of course." He arranges the pillows so that I'm propped up, and scoots up to sit next to me. I slip up under his arm, and drop my head down on his chest. If you can't feel safe with Superman, who can you feel safe with?
"Where is she?"
"Are you sure you want to talk about this?"
"Not really, but I think I'd better. It's too easy to shove it into a corner. Problem is that it's just going to sit there, ready to bite when I get too close."
"She's back on the island of the Amazons, in her mother Hippolyta's custody."
My fingers curl in his shirtfront, and I say, "You mean that her family is deciding her punishment?"
"You don't understand, Scribe. Hippolyta may be Diana's mother, but she's also the queen. She has a duty to the entire Amazon race. Diana disgraced them all, and committed a horrendous violation of their laws and principals. If anything, her family status is a mark against her. I brought along your friend, Clive, and he gave a most... vivid account of what happened. I've never seen a woman's expression so grim. Diana was in chains, on her way to a cell when I left the island."
"Good."
He touched my hair softly. "Did she hurt you very much?"
I sigh. "It wasn't pleasant. I think maybe I hurt myself worse, after."
He winces. "Why did you do that to yourself?"
"I was trying to scrape her off me. And how do you know what I did?"
He blushes a little. "Well, the ointment... Lois had already gone to work. I thought it would be best to go ahead and treat you, start the healing process."
"It's working pretty good. I think I'm just down to minor irritation instead of major agony. Thanks again."
"Least I could do."
"How gross am I?"
"Scribe."
"Well, I'm scalded, and scraped. I must look like I was dragged behind a slow moving car."
"You've got pink patches, but they're fading."
I peek under the sheet. Sure enough, large pink patches of tender, new skin. I touch a patch on my belly experimentally, and shiver. Very sensitive.
I notice that he is watching me, and look back at him thoughtfully. I reach up and pull off his glasses, tossing them lightly on the table. "Why, Mr. Kent. You're beautiful without your glasses."
"Scribe, why did you do that?"
"So I wouldn't mash either of our noses when I did this." I hook an arm up around his neck, pull myself up, and kiss him.
It’s kind of a medium kiss. Not very light, but not hard and demanding, either. When I pull away at the end, his lips nip lightly at mine. He says quietly, "Do you know what you're doing?"
I get the other arm around his neck and sort of hang there. "No. Why should now be any different from any other moment in my life?" I pull, drawing his head down while I raise myself up, and kiss him again. I keep pushing forward, moving my mouth on his. I don't know what the hell I’m doing, but it feels good, and he doesn't seem to mind.
His mouth openes, kind of like Lois' had, and I slide my tongue over to say hello. I receive greetings right back. I feel his hands cup the back of my head, massaging my scalp lightly. That feels good. I make a muffled sound that means basically, "Okay, more of this." and start sucking and licking.
After a couple of wet, messy, very nice moments, he pulles away and says hoarsely, "Where is this going?"
"Gah, I don't know. The moon?" He groans. "Sorry, yeah, ought to have a plan of action before action. I'm not... I want... I can't... not yet... but... I like you. A lot. I think you like me. I mean, not just bodywise."
He groans again, but smiles. "Not just that." he agrees. "But it includes that. A lot."
"And after that witch... I really feel like I'd like to wipe the feel of that away with what it would be like for someone I really like, who cared about me, to touch me. Some. But no... uh... you know."
"Can we just touch each other?"
"How about if I keep this sheet wrapped around me? Would that be okay?"
"I think it would be sexy as hell."
"Good. How 'bout laying down then."
"Just a second." He kicks off shoes and socks, then stretches out beside me. I start unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm glad you did away with the tie. I don't really know how to work them."
"You do okay with buttons."
"Buttons and I are old friends. Buttons are simple and straightforward, if occasionally slippery." By the time I finish speaking, I have his shirt open. "And I'd forgotten how most men wore undershirts back in the fifties."
He starts to sit up. "I can take this off..."
"Not necessary at present. Nice and stretchy." To demonstrate, I push it up, exposing a smooth expanse of chest. "By the way, where's the uniform?"
"Hm?" I have my nose snuggled right between his pectorals. "Oh, uh, folded up in my pocket. Super compression."
"Sort of like origami, huh?" I spot a flat nipple to my left, and touch it experimentally.
"I suppose. Would you do that again, please?" Obligingly I slide my palm over it, and feel it start to stiffen. This is interesting. I mean, I know in theory how sex works... But it’s fascinating to see that I can cause physical reactions.
I check, and the nipple is standing up in a little nub. I slant a glance up at him, cautious to see that this is all right. He’s holding very still, face intent, and I realize that he’s trying not to scare me at all. That’s so sweet. I decide to reward him, and satisfy my own curiosity.
I shift myself till I’m half lying across him, resting my chin on his chest and draping my upper torso across his abdomen. I gently rub the right nipple till it’s also taut and firm. Then I lean over and lick it.
I have to hang on quickly, because he gives a gasp and heaves. "Are you maybe a little sensitive here, Kal?"
"I guess so, but please don't stop."
"Okay, just don't, like, throw me through the ceiling, or anything."
"Don't worry. I've heard the jokes, and it doesn't work that way. My bodily functions are withing normal mortal standards unless I consciously choose to extend them."
"You don't know what a comfort that is." This time I give him a teeny nip, and he groans again, but doesn't jerk so hard. I lick him in apology for the brief pain, and turn my attention to the other side.
This is fun. Of course, I've never in my life explored another person's body. It’s fascinating to compare the differences in texture from my own. And the responses. I can make him arch and groan just with my fingers and mouth, a strong guy like him. *Wow. I haven't even gotten to the real naughty bits yet. Speaking of which, though...*
I scoot over him, dragging the sheet between us, staying wrapped in it. I don't worry about being too heavy, because... because... Well, dammit, he's Superman, right? Don't have to worry about pushing the breath out of this dude. And I guess it's all right, because he makes this kind of pleased sound, and puts his arms around me, then draws me up where he can kiss me again.
After a moment I pull away from his mouth and murmur, "You've been drinking orange juice."
He flushes. "In the kitchen. Do you want some?"
I act like I'm thinking, and roll my eyes. "Maybe later. Silly."
"You're the one that brought it up."
I arch my eyebrows, give him my best smirk, and say, "You know, that statement can be interpreted several ways." Then I move my sheet covered thigh between his legs and slide it back and forth. He bites his lip, closes his eyes, and pushes his head back into the pillow.
"Oooh, I think that works." I croon. "Maybe with a little fewer obstructions?" I slide back down and do a fairly complex maneuver that ends up with my straddling his upper legs. I have to tuck one end of the sheet over my shoulder to keep it from sliding down, but I manage.
Then I reach up and tickle his abdomen, stretched out flat. I crawl my fingers back up his torso, giving the two little buds another affectionate rub, then slide the fingers back down to pluck at the thin line of black hair running down under his waistband before settling on his belt and starting to unfasten the buckle.
His breath has speeded up. Once I get the belt undone, I pause, and study the fly. I put my hands over it lightly, and just hold them there. I can feel his legs tensing under me. He stays still for a long moment, then he lifts his hips, pressing his crotch up into my hands. I feel a warm, firm bulge.
"Hey, big guy," I say softly. "Whatcha got there?"
"Why don't you find out?" His voice is a little hoarse.
"Scribe, girl explorer." I mutter, reaching for the zipper. "You know, I've seen magazines, and videos, but you're going to be the first man I see really up close and personal. Did you just get bigger?"
"Entirely possible, with you talking like that. For heaven's sake, don't stop now."
"As if. I mean, I'm doing this deliberately, I'm not mean enough to just...quit." I'm dragging down the zipper slowly. "Mm, that almost sounds like a purr, doesn't it?"
"Huh? It made a noise?"
"Well, I'd think with your super heating..."
"Scribe, please..."
"Ssh. A great mystery is about to be answered. Does Superman wear boxers or briefs? And the answer is... Whoops." I look up in surprise. "He goes commando. Makes sense. You would have such an undies line under that outfit."
"Scriiiiibe..."
"Just a second. Lift your yummy butt up for a minute, 'kay?" I skin down the pants, managing to move them down to his knees without losing my position. Then he kicks wildly to get them the rest of the way off, and I just hang on, giggling, like it's a mechanical bull ride, and I'm Debra Winger.
"It's good to hear that, but am I that funny?" There's a tinge of reproof mixed with the good humor.
"Nope. It's just the very idea that I'd ever have the nerve to do something like this. And..." I reach out and gently touch the thick, hard erection that is nestled in the blue back curls at his groin. "...especially the fact that I could cause that kind of a response. Did I really do that?"
"Yesss. And please do some more. You're making me crazy."
I nod. "Yes, that's normal. I do make people crazy on a regular basis."
I tilt my head, studying him, figuring out what to do next. I mean, we're down to the real thing here. That's a penis. And a fine example, too, I must say. At least from my admittedly limited experience. But then I'd been looking at video versions for quite a while, and Clark/Superman/Kal El had absolutely nothing to worry about in that department.
Funny the details you notice. He’s circumcised, and I think briefly that they must have had a Bris or something before he was launched from Krypton, because they sure as hell couldn't have done it on Earth. Imagine the reaction if they'd tried, and the scalpel had just... I don't know... gone blunt?
Anyway, I'm surprised at how pretty it is. I mean, I never got into all that 'phallic object' shit in modern art. But... okay, I'll be gushy. This is a work of art in flesh. All pale and deep pink, with a faint, faint tracing here and there of blue veins. I mean... you know how some things are so pretty, you're afraid to touch them? But if I don't, we’re both going to be awful frustrated.
So, I just sort of graze the length with my fingertips. It twitches a little. I swear, I'm not making this up. Like it’s a little (okay, not so little) separate, live thing. And Clark makes a noise, way back in his throat that gives me a very nice shiver.
I get braver, and try to fit a hand around it. Don't quite make it. I blink. *Oh, yeah, definitely the sheet stays in place. Maybe some day, but the first time? Uh uh.*
I add my other hand, getting a gentle, but firm grip. He immediately thrusts up. When his hips fall back, my hands slid up the shaft to the top, stopping just behind the head.
It’s a deep rose pink. The shape... I don't know. Sort of a solid... Raspberry beret, like Prince sang about, okay? Closest I can come without drawing you a picture, and I've never been much of an artist with lines and color. And it’s slick and shiny, clear fluid oozing from the tiny little slit in the tip.
I slide my fingers over the surface, spreading the id, id, and he pounds his fists against the mattress.
"I'm sorry. Should I stop that?"
"No. Dammit. Sorry, no, please don't stop. You can do that forever if you want to."
So I do it some more, working my way down a little at a time till the entire thing is wet and gleaming. I find that this makes my hand slide much more easily. Then I wrap him in both hands again and start to stroke, very slowly.
Then I decide that I have to investigate the pouch hanging down there between his thighs. I remember the pleased response back in the alley, but I'm not ready to abandon tenderness. I let one hand creep down and gather, and gently feel the roll and play of the solid testicles inside. After all, if I'm ever gonna do this with an 'ordinary mortal' (and I expect I will, somewhere down the line) it would be best if I knew how to fondle without causing injury that requires 911.
"Oh, damn." He half rises, reaching for me, then drops back, and I suddenly realize what's going on. He's afraid that, if he touches me, he'll hurt me. Not the super strength thing, he's already made it clear he can control that. But after what I've been through, he's afraid that normal touch will be...uncomfortable, if not painful. Is the man a pussycat, or what? I've just found out that consideration turns me on. I'm gonna have to be reeeal nice to him.
I crawl up him, reaching between us to position his erection flat. I drop my knees on either side of him for maximum contact, but don't take any of my weight off his body. If we were actually going to 'do the deed', I'd need to raise up some, but this is perfect for what I have in mind.
Again I rest my chin on his chest. I gaze at him, smile sweetly, and start to rock my hips. He's frozen for a moment. Then he starts to push up to meet me.
You know... I wasn't really expecting to get very turned on. I was more or less doing this to confirm that I could make someone I genuinely liked happy this way. I didn't expect to get wet, like I have. Especially after what happened last night.
But this isn't anything like what happened last night. This is my decision. I know that if I want to stop, it will stop. I'm being treated with respect, appreciation, and even affection. I'm liking it a lot. It must be a hell of a lot better if you do it bare skinned, but I'm not quite ready for that.
Anyway, according to what I've heard from just about everyone, most people don't just leap into intercourse, anyway. A 'dry hump' seems to be a perfectly acceptable way of starting sexual exploration. Maybe I'm a little old for it by my world's standards, but what the hell. Since when have I ever lived my life to someone else's time table?
I decide that it would be very interesting to see what would happen... I bite his chin lightly and say, "Kal? I really didn't do much damage to my ass, if you're interested? Hm?"
No response, except for ragged breathing. He seems to be preoccupied. So I reach down and find his hands, then draw them up and back and settle them on my buttocks.
He blinks, and focuses on me, puzzled. I push back into his hands, then slide forward again. He gets the idea. His hands tighten firmly, and he pulls me down tight and begins to thrust up steadily.
I gasp and bite my lip. The harder pressure is hitting a very good place. I squirm a little, adding a twist to the motion that seems to sort of open me up, just a little, and new territories feel the hot friction.
I put my hands on his arms, because I've got to hold on to something. I'm feeling a half familiar heaviness in my groin, and know that the tissues have become blood engorged with arousal. Heat is radiating through me in liquid waves.
His hands flex, and I feel even more open, vulnerable, but I'm not afraid this time. The hot, hard tip of his cock slides against my clitoris, and the sensation, even through the sheet, makes me buck wildly. I find myself making a sound exactly like my Siamese cat used to make when she was in heat, and I wouldn't allow her out of the house. I'm suddenly feeling a lot more sympathy for that cat.
He hangs on tight and pulls me down almost roughly, shoving his hips up, again, and again. Each time hitting that special spot. And I go crazy. I whimper and moan and babble. I speak in tongues. I'm helpless to do anything but ride.
I've had orgasms before, okay? At least I thought I had. This one felt like... I don't know how to describe it. My body just kind of told my mind, "Thank you, you're not necessary right now. Go away for awhile, we'll let you know when we need you."
The first thing I'm aware of is that I've been tumbled back onto the bed. I've lost that lovely, solid heat between my legs, and my body is saying, "Hey! Wait a minute, damn it. That was nice, but isn't there supposed to be more?"
And Clark has drawn my hands back to his throbbing erection. The moment I touch him, he cries out, and my hands are suddenly covered in gobs of slightly sticky, very warm semen. I'm almost disappointed, then realize that he moved me before he came. There might have been no penetration, and some very damp cloth between us, but nature is a very peculiar thing. He was making sure I didn't accidentally get pregnant. Imagine, a guy who can consider that while he has a raging hard on. I didn't think they existed.
In any case, he recovers his breath first (big surprise, right?), and checks to see that I'm okay. "Scribe? You're kind of quiet there."
"I'm just wondering."
"About what?"
"About how amazing it is that civilization has progressed to the point it has."
"Oh. Um, unusual train of thought."
I stretch. "Not really. I'm wondering how, if sex can get any better than that, how anyone ever had the energy or time to get out and invent stuff like the wheel."
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Career Girl Blues