"Sweetheart, are you sure you don't want to go see the doctor?"

"Clive, I hate to tell you this, but I get the feeling that if your dimension hasn't even developed douche technology their other birth prevention methods won't be all that effective. Besides, I've had enough of sterile atmospheres for awhile."

"Suit yourself, precious. You usually do."

They were in the kitchen. Clive slid a puffy omlette onto a plate, then set it before her. "Damn, Clive. How many eggs did you use?"

"Three." He started ticking off on his fingers, "Also sharp cheddar, minced ham, chives, a touch of garlic..."

She cut into the omlette. "I hope you have a spare toothbrush. That is, if you plan on kissing me again any time soon."

"Sweetie, I have a case of little toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom, all individually wrapped in plastic. I just hope you don't mind brushing with one that has a cartoon character on the handle. I got them from a dental supply house. You know, the dentists give them out to children as rewards for being brave during their appointments."

"Ah. I see that this dimension, too, caught wise to the 'here's a lollipop' scam. But you already loaded me up with toast and bacon. How do you expect me to eat all of this?"

"Can't you eat it all?"

"Of course I can--I'm just wondering how you came to expect it."

"I've watched you eat, dear. Besides, I figured you might have worked up an appetite, and I want to be sure you keep your energy up."

"Clark talked, didn't he?"

Clive smiled. "We had a little chat before I brought you home. He can turn the most delicious shade of pink, and did you know that he's ticklish?"

"Evil, evil man."

"Present."

Scribe lifted a forkful of omelette to her mouth, leaving a golden string of melted cheese stretching back to her plate. "Crap," she mumbled, her speech muted by the eggs. "Now I gotta do the spaghetti thing with it. I hate slurping--it leaves grease on my chin."

"Then wait." Clive reached out, finger extended, and quickly wrapped the cheese strand around his finger. He pulled briskly and the strand snapped. Then he popped it into his own mouth and sucked it off with great relish, giving her a significant look.

"You are sooo, dirty. But in such a nice way."

"Thank you, pet. Now, then--if you aren't going to the doctor, what do you have planned for today? I can leave the store alone for a bit--I have the staff properly trained and terrified to be able to trust them."

"I want to check in with Superman. He's looking into that technology Luthor had whipped up. There's a chance that it may help me get home."

Clive poured a cup of coffee, then sat beside her. "I'm of two minds about that. Of course I want you to be happy, pet, and I know how you're pining for your mama, but I'm going to miss you awfully when you go."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Clive. That's been one of the ambitions of my life: to get to the point where I'd leave a hole in the life of someone other than blood relations if anything happened to me."

He squeezed her thigh. "You will, precious. If he does have something, would you consider waiting a bit longer till we can be sure that there's a way for you to back-and-forth?"

"Well..." his hand slid higher. "Well..." It slid higher, and rubbed. "I might very well be persuaded."

"Lovely. Now, how will you get in touch with the Divine Man in Blue?"

"Clark knows how to reach him. I'll just give him a call." She polished off her breakfast, then dialed Clark's home number. "He has today off, I think. Oh, hello? Clark, it's me. I'm fine." She arched an eyebrow at Clive. "A little sore, perhaps, but definitely fine." She paused, covered the mouthpiece and whispered, "Is it possible to hear someone blush over the phone?" She spoke into the receiver again. "Anyway, I was wondering if you could get a message to Superman for me? Yes?" She spoke to Clive again. "He says he's pretty sure he can. I'd like to talk to him about that dimensional travel machinery he got from Luthor's research team. Mhm. Oh, he's hopeful? Wonderful! Yes, I suppose it would be more practical for him to take me to the Fortress of Solitude to check it out."

Clive started waving his arms frantically. Scribe gave him an innocent, questioning look. Clive pointed at himself. She blinked. He grabbed her sleeve, shook her, and pointed to himself again, mouthing 'You'd better!' "Say, Clark, do you think that Superman would mind if I brought a friend along? No, not Lois. No, not Jimmy, either. Yes, you know him--Clive. Yes, that Clive. Good lord, are there any others?" Clive blew on his nails and polished them on his shirt. Scribe mouthed 'vain'. "Yes, I'm positive he'd like to go. Okay. Thanks, sweetie." She hung up. "He says about ten minutes."

Clive shrieked and ran for the bathroom. "Good God, darling, warn a person! Thank heavens I showered this morning. Where did I put the blow drier? No time for a manicure, I suppose."

She was tempted to watch, but decided that it might be safer to stay out of Clive's way when he went into a primping frenzy. She went and sat in the livingroom, playing with Tietlebaum. He came back in about nine-and-a-half minutes, completely changed and spiffed up. "How do I look, pet?"

"Do you own an Evinrude?"

"A...?"

"Outboard motor. I figured if you were going to go fishing for compliments, you should be fully equipped. You're gorgeous, and you know it. You'd be gorgeous if you were run over ten miles of bad road, then wrapped in a polyester suit and sprayed with a pound of Aquanet."

"Flatterer." There was a knock. He blinked. "Scribe, that wasn't the front door."

"This is Superman we're talking about, Clive." He followed her into the bedroom. Superman was standing out on the balcony, peering through the panes of the French door. She opened them.

He stepped in. "Good morning, Scribe." He nodded at Clive. "Clive. I hope you don't mind my choise of entrances."

Clive smiled smoothly. "You can enter any way you want to, handsome."

Scribe blinked at him. "Clive, I thought you didn't..."

"Even I am willing to make exceptions occasionally, Scribe, and he is exceptional. Now, how is this transportation going to be arranged?"

Superman thought. "Well, if it was to anywhere but the Fortress I could do you both at the same time."

Clive gave Scribe a sultry look. "Do you hear that, darling? He could do us both at the same time."

Superman flushed. Clive salivated. "But when I carry a visitor to the Fortress, I usually wrap them in my cape for warmth, and it isn't big enough for both of you."

"Oh, I bet it is big enough for both of us," Clive purred. The flush deepened.

"So I think that the best thing would be for me to take you over one at a time. It won't take but a minute or two between trips."

"Sounds fair enough to me," Scribe stated.

"Ladies first," Clive said. "You go ahead, precious." He whispered in her ear. "I want another shot of breath freshener."

"All right, Scribe. Come on out on the balcony." They did. "Put your arms around my neck and hang on tight." She did. He wrapped the cape around her snuggly. "You don't get airsick, do you?"

"I wouldn't know--the closest I've ever come to flying was the skyride at Astroworld."

"It might be better if you keep your eyes shut, then."

"Oh, all right." She closed her eyes.

He tucked a fold of the cape over her head. "This will keep you from getting windburn." The ground suddenly disappeared from under her feet, and wind whipped and roared around her.

Damn, I'm glad I don't wear dresses. This would be awful breezy. She didn't try to talk to him, working on the theory that pilots and drivers should not be distracted. After a few rather disorienting minutes she felt Superman's double-armed grip shift to a single armed grip. "Hey!"

"Stay calm. I have to get the key to open the Fortress." There was a stupendous grinding and clanking noise, more wind, and she was set down gently on solid ground. Superman unwrapped her, and she blinked in the bright light.

"Good Gravy." She stared around. "I haven't felt like this since I was about seven and they took me to the Astrodome for the first time."

"Thank you. I think the entry hall turned out well. Now, I'm off to get your friend Clive. Please don't wander off and start playing with things."

"Don't worry. I'll cop to testing wet paint once or twice, but I'm not one of those people who see a sign over a button saying 'Do Not Push' and lunge for it. Tell me something, Kal, how good are you at flying while distracted?"

"I haven't crashed or lost a passenger yet. Why?"

"Kal, you're going to have Clive hanging around your neck."

"Scribe, he can't be all that much heavier than you, so that won't be a problem."

"That's not what I mean."

"Is he a nervous flier? Am I going to have to calm him down."

She smiled. "If he reacts the way I think he's going to react, there's no way you're going to be able to calm him down."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Y-o-u'll find o-u-t." She shooed him. "Go on. Leave him alone too long and he'll start changing outfits. That door leads into the fortress proper?" He nodded. "I'll just hike on over and sit in that..." she squited, "Yes, that's a chair. I'll park it and wait for you."

Superman dropped lightly onto the balcony of Clive's apartment. The French doors were still open, and he could see into the bedroom. He blinked. When they'd left the room had been scrupulously neat--now it looked like a tornado had hit a clothing store--one that specialized in leatherwear.

Clive, shirtless, was buttoning up a pair of black leather pants that seemed to have been tattooed on. He smiled at Superman and said, "Just a minute, precious. Almost done." He seemed to take an inordinately long time doing up the last three buttons on the button-fly.

Superman caught a glimpse of a few wisps of curly, brown-blonde hair, and a thin line of the same leading up to a firm abdomen. For some reason, his mouth got dry.

Clive finished with the buttons. "I hope you don't mind. It suddenly occured to me that I wasn't dressed appropriately for a visit to the Arctic."

"You don't need to worry about that. You'll be wrapped in my cape on the way up, and it give excellent insulation. That combined with our shared body heat will keep you warm until we get into the Fortress, and that's well heated."

"Oh, I'm a great believer in shared body heat. Well, then, I needn't bother with my flannel shirts." He smoothed on a black T-shirt that was even tighter than the pants, then walked over. "I do hope that cape is efficient. Look." He pointed at his chest. Kal-el looked. There were two hard, sharp peaks pressing against the thin, soft fabric. "Nature's thermometers."

Kal-el tried to think of something appropriate to say, but he really didn't have much experience in discussing nipples. "Scribe said you'd probably change clothes."

"Did she? She's a perceptive little thing." I'm surprised she didn't tell you I'd be waiting naked. I did consider it. "Well, are we ready to go?"

"Yes. I don't want to leave her up there alone for too long."

"Very wise, dear. She isn't exactly... um... a placid sort of person. Okay, if I remember correctly," he slid his arms around Superman's neck, "this is how it's done." Superman started to blush. "Mm. But I want to be certain that I don't fall, so I'd better get a l-i-t-t-l-e closer."

His arms tightened. Superman found a firm, muscular body pressed against him from chest to knee. He swallowed hard. This was a unique experience. The only time he came into close bodily contact was when he was fighting villians, and it didn't often get around to wrestling. A quick tap on the jaw was usually enough to put them out of commission. Clive was looking up at him. I didn't realize brown eyes could be so bright.

He's staring! Clive thought gleefully. Experience is nice, but I do so love virgins.

Kal-el wrapped the cape around Clive and put his arms around the other man's body. "Are you ready?"

"Almost. I need a little better anchorage." He hopped, and Kal-el suddenly found Clive's legs wrapped around his hips, the other man's crotch pressing firmly against his belly. "Okay. Feel free to lift off." Superman just stood there. Clive peeked up at him. He smiled at the bemused expression. "C'mon, precious. Scribe is waiting."

"Oh. Right. Hang on."

"Just try and shake me off."

Scribe felt the blast of cold air clear across the entry hall, and looked up from the issue of Kandorian Nightlife she'd found on a table beside the chair. If she stayed here long enough, she'd have to persuade Kal-el to take her on a club crawl in the bottled city.

The big door swung shut behind Superman as he flew over and landed lightly before her. She cocked her head. "What's wrong with this picture?"

A pair of engineer boots and leather-clad legs dropped down, and the cape unfurled to display Clive plastered against a furiously blushing Superman. Clive tipped his head back to give her a pleased smile. "Absolutely nothing, pet." He released his grip on Superman's neck, letting his hands slide down his shoulders to his chest. "Mmm. Much nicer than flying coach. I didn't even miss the little bag of peanuts and the teeny bottles of booze."

"Clive, turn loose of the big, pretty man."

"Why?"

"Because I want him to show me what progress has been made on getting me home before you get him so distracted that he forgets how to speak English."

Clive sighed. "Yes, of course. Practicality before passion. Friendship before fu..." She clapped a hand over his mouth. Clive gently removed it, saying, "Do you have any idea what I'd usually do to someone who presumed to do that?"

"Do you really want him to go into shock?" She whispered in his ear. "I thought you preferred 'em awake and wiggling."

He gave her a kiss. "Forgiven." He noticed Superman's puzzled look and whispered back, "Good God, darling. Not only has he missed the clue bus, he doesn't even know where the trolley line runs, does he?"

She patted his shoulder. "I have confidence in you as a conductor." She raised her voice to address Superman. "So, it's in a lab?"

"Yes. If you'll follow me..."

As Scribe and Clive walked after him, deeper into the fortress, Clive whispered, "I would follow that ass anywhere. What is that costume made out of? Jersey? Spandex? I wonder if he could get me some in black? And I don't see any buttons or zippers. How the hell does he get into it?"

"That, my dear Clive is called the Star Trek Uniform Syndrome, also known as No Visible Fastenings. It is one of the Great Mysteries of the Universe. Please note that I speak in capitals. It's right up there with How Did James T. Kirk Manage to Avoid Getting Some Sort of Weird STD Given That He Seemed Willing to Hump Anything That Seemed Remotely Likely to Have XX Chromosomes."

"Here we are."

As Kal-el stood back to let them enter, Scribe noted the shy smile he gave Clive. She also noted that the material of his costume wasn't any better at concealing erections than earthly fabric. Again she whispered to the hairdresser, "And who knows? I think you may have the chance to solve that first great mystery, or at least you'll probably figure out how he gets out of it."