He can cook, too. While I take a shower (lukewarm, this time, and no nailbrush. I have to let him test the water before he'll let me shower), Clark/Kal El/Superman starts breakfast. I come out to find him frying bacon. He's gotten dressed again. Hey, I would have told him not to bother on MY account, but if you're gonna fry bacon...I mean, even if you are Superman, common sense has to pop up somewhere. All that tempting fate stuff...

Anyway, besides the bacon, he pulls out a pan of biscuits. homemade, mind you. They don't have those little cardboard tubes around here, I've looked. Yes, in this short a time. I'm a southern red neck, honey. Biscuits are one of the major food groups. He also mixed up a batch of milk gravy to go with it. Seems that Ma Kent taught him more than to always were clean underwear, and carry a handkerchief.

I'm beginning to wonder how the heck he's managed to escape matrimony all this time. I mean, if I'd met someone like him back home... Gorgeous, sexy, polite, sweet, steadily employed, not gay... Hell, shy as I was, I'd have probably had a go at flirting. What could it hurt? He's the type who would have turned you down so nicely it wouldn't have hurt much more than... say... your average root canal. He'd had at least two 'serous' girlfriends, as far as I knew. Lana Lang, a highschool flame, and Lois, the big city siren. Why hadn't either of them gotten...

Then I remembered Diana's snip about Lana moving out, and that open mouthed kiss I'd shared with Lois (no, I haven't forgotten that little incident). Those could explain a lot. But Lois had said she was bi, hadn't she? And frankly, Kal El struck me as immanently capable of bringing out straight tendencies. I knew I didn't want anything deathless with him (lord, how long would deathless be with a transplanted Kryptonian?), but I was puzzled as to why no one else did, either.

I decided not to ponder on it too heavily. After all, a very nice, very sexy man had just given me a perfectly wonderful orgasm, and he was now feeding me. Bliss!

He watched me eat, and I was sure to make appreciative noises every now and then. I'd gotten into a loose, silky robe Lois had left for me. I was healing nicely, but those pink patches of skin were still a little sensitive.

As I finished the last fork full, chugged some of the orange juice we'd discussed earlier *snicker* and sat back with a replete sigh, he said, "Had enough?"

"For the time being." I stood up, stepped around the table, and plopped on his lap. He seemed a little surprised, but he grabbed on before I could slide off on the slippery material of my robe. I put my arms around his neck, said "Kiss the cook." and did.

His arms tightened around my waist, and we sat there for a little while. When we heard the front door open... He didn't exactly tense. There was just a fractional tightening. I didn't respond at all. I had my head dropped on his shoulder, and was enjoying a contentment I hadn't felt since the last time my mama burped me and put me down for a nap.

Jimmy and Lois came into the kitchen. Lois drew up short. After a moment's hesitation, Jimmy went and sat beside Clark. I blinked at him, then smiled. "What brings you here, handsome stranger?"

"Lunch time, and we thought we'd check up on you." He cocked his head, considering. "You both seem to be doing all right."

Lois said, "Scribe, you're looking better. Clark, you're looking... uh... rumpled."

"Scribe had a bit of an episode earlier, Lois. I'm going to give you those tranquilizers before I leave, and I don't want you to let them out of your possession again."

I stuck out my tongue at no one in particular. "I told you. I just wanted things to go away for a while. Well, they're gone now. If they come back, I think I can kick 'em away without the pills."

Lois sat down on the other side of Jimmy, rubbing her forehead. "God, why didn't I think about that?"

"Oh, please, no guilt. Had enough guilt, thank you. If I really wanted to kill myself, that wouldn't be all that much of a deterrent. People who are serious about that succeed, you know. Sad but true. But not true in this case, okay?" I made my voice dramatic. "I have found the will to live."

Jimmy regarded me with mischievous eyes. "Did you get laid?"

"Jimmy!" Clark and Lois did perfect two part harmony.

He shrugged. "Well, like you said Lois, he's rumpled. And Clark is never rumpled. And I don't think Scribe has much on under that robe. And they smell like sex..."

"Jimmy!"

I grinned.

"I'm sorry, but you do.  Not that it's a bad thing, just... distracting as hell." I made fanning motions in his direction, and he almost choked on laughter. "And Scribe... your eyes look kind of... slanty. And your smile... If you were a cat, you'd be purring, and I'd be looking for canary feathers. So, did you get laid?"

"Mmmm? Kinda sorta almost not really but a close approximation. On the purity scale I'm still about..." I looked at Clark. "Eighty nine per cent?"

"No more than eighty two, I'm afraid." he replied with a straight face. I didn't give the man enough credit. He does have a sense of humor.

"Hm. Not good enough for Ivory soap, but I'm still eligible for maypole dances." Another giggle. "Ooo, I just got a mental image..." Jimmy's laughter says his thoughts slid into the same gutter.

I cross my legs, and manage to tap his knee with my toe. "Seriously. You didn't tell anyone about this, did you? I mean, I'm not gonna make page two, am I?" I'm trying to sound light, but I don't know how much success I'm having. I really don't want to discuss what happened with anyone else. Like I said before, I have it pretty much under control. But it's so fresh that I'm afraid that going close to it right now will encourage it to snap at me.

"There's been no official report," Lois reassured me. "And there won't be, unless you decide. We told Perry that you were mugged. He's sympathetic. He was roughed up himself a couple of years ago, so he won't press you. Other than that, it's me, Jimmy, Clark, Superman, your friend Clive, Toddy, and Tinkerbelle. Everyone's agreed to keep their traps shut. The only one we were worried about was Tinkerbelle. Clive had a talk with her, and I think we're safe. Your friend is... interesting."

"You didn't tell him I used Lava soap on my hair, did you? I'd hate to hurt him like that."

"He said to tell you the hair appointment stands. You'll need it. And don't worry, he's laying in a supply of silk scarves. What does that mean?"

I can feel myself blushing. "Um, private joke."

I wiggle off and stand up. This brings my tummy somewhere in the vicinity of Jimmy's face. He tips his head forward just enough so that his nose brushes the green silk of my robe. Hey, it could have been accidental.

*giggle*

Geez, I think I officially qualify as a Dirty Old Broad now. When I left for the convention, I was expecting the experience of a lifetime. I was planning on getting drunk and maybe pinching some young fanboy butts. This had more than lived up to my wildest expectation.

"I'd better go get dressed. I need to go in and finish up this afternoon." All three protest at once, and I say sharply. "Stop it. You're dear people, and I know you're worried about me. But the physical part is pretty well past now. In fact, it'll probably do me good to move around a little."

"But your emotional state," begins Clark.

"Is better than I have any right to expect. Look, I don't want to be babysat, okay? My mom wouldn't let me stay overnight alone till I was nineteen. Do you have any idea how that kills your self confidence? I'm not gonna be responsible for any of you hurting your jobs any more than you already have. And I don't want to stay here alone, because frankly people, your tv system sucks through a straw. I mean, it smells on ice. No X Files, no Sentinel, no Star Trek of any kind, no Buffy or Angel. Hell, I'd even settle for Wheel of Fortune. But since you don't have it, I might as well go be productive. Or as close as I can manage."