The
roads in this part of the country were good for one thing: Stretching out
straight and flat for miles on end. Chloe Sullivan fought to remain awake
behind the wheel. She had driven for miles, and hours, beyond her limit,
really. She knew she should have stopped and gotten a room but money was tight
and she needed to save it for more important things like coffee until she could
decide on a destination. So, until she found a place to call home she intended
to sleep in the car, just as she’d done for the past three nights.
She pulled into a gas station somewhere in
rural Kansas and filled the tank. The air was cold, bracing, and she breathed
deep as she watched traffic trundle past. Mostly there were trucks hauling
freight, driven by men and women who could stay up for days behind the wheel,
or so she’d been told. Sometimes cars would pass, as well as a Greyhound bus.
She wondered if it wouldn’t have been
cheaper to just take one of those Greyhounds but didn’t regret driving herself.
Her own car would allow her to explore, to go where she pleased, when she
pleased, and leave when she needed to.
A figure emerged from the darkness and she
realized she’d seen him walking on the road not long before she’d pulled in.
She didn’t pay him much attention now as she headed into the store, desperate
for a bathroom break and to grab a drink that could help her keep going just a
little longer. She could just hear her guardian now, the man she so desperately
wanted away from, telling her how unprepared she still was to be away from home
this young. After all, she’d just turned eighteen. What did she know about
striking out on her own?
After she paid, and took too big a swallow
of coffee that was boiling hot, Chloe came out and saw one very bad piece of
luck waiting for her--the front passenger side tire was completely flat. Even
worse it was her spare so she couldn’t have changed it even if she knew how.
She stood staring at the tire and realized that the car had been handling
funny, seeming to fight her on the road, but she’d been too tired to connect
the dots. She was just lucky it hadn’t blown out in the middle of nowhere, or
caused a wreck on some deserted road without cell phone service.
“Oh no...”
She looked around the area. It was almost
midnight and there were wasn’t a garage in sight for her to wait on to open. Of
course not. She couldn’t have that kind of luck.
“If I didn’t have bad luck...” she muttered.
“You wouldn’t have any luck at all?”
The old saying was completed by a young man
her age. The hitchhiker who’d strolled into the light of the gas station as she
ignored him. Now she gave him a good, close look. He was tall, made of muscle,
had a mop of curly black hair, full lips so red it was almost like he’d put on
a little lipstick, green eyes, and Chloe thought he was possibly the sexiest
guy she’d ever seen in her life. He smiled and stuffed his hands deep in his
pockets. He had a backpack over one shoulder, black with red lining. He looked
kind enough but she knew looks could be deceiving.
“You wouldn’t happen to own a garage, would
you?” she asked, and checked to make sure the attendant was within view.
“No, but I know how to change the tire if I
can get the spare out,” he said.
Chloe tried not to let exhaustion and
hunger keep her from crying in frustration right there in front of this
stranger, or make her do something mean like take it out on this seemingly nice
guy. After all, he didn’t tell her to run away from home as soon as she’d
turned eighteen with $3000 to her name. Three grand didn’t buy what it used to
and she worried about burning through it too quickly. Still, she should have
taken time to have her tires checked, made sure she had a spare.
“That is the spare.”
“Ah, I see. Then we’ll just have to get you
safely into a room until you can get it fixed.”
“We?”
The handsome stranger, who couldn’t have
been much older than her, nodded and said, “Yeah, we. I’m not leaving a girl
alone at a gas station in the middle of the night. There’s a lot of bad men out
here.”
She didn’t try to hide allowing her eyes to
travel the length of him. “How do I know you’re not one of them?”
He leaned in and winked. “You don’t. Do you
see that red and white glow? That’s a motel, Larsen’s. It’s cheap but clean.
Tell the man at the desk Clark sent you.”
Chloe saw the glow he spoke of behind some
buildings. She was going to have to get a room after all. She opened the door
of her car and reached into the glove box, took the pistol she’d stolen from
her guardian, and slipped it into her purse. Then she locked the passenger door.
“Will you help me move it over there? I’d
rather not get towed.”
“Better. I’ll move it for you.”
“By yourself?” Chloe asked skeptically.
“It’s a VW Bug. You could probably carry
this thing by yourself if you used your leg muscles.”
She watched him put the car in neutral
after she gave him the keys and he easily pushed it into a parking space,
locked up, and tossed the keys back to her.
“Easy peezy.”
“Thanks, Clark. My name’s--”
“You shouldn’t give your name to a
stranger,” he cut her off.
The feminist in her tried not to bristle. “Because
I’m a girl?”
“Yes,” he readily agreed, with the most
unapologetic look she’d seen since starting this trip. Unapologetic was a look
her guardian had mastered.
“I’m a girl with a gun so I’m not
completely helpless,” she told him. “I’m Chloeand thanks for the help, Clark.”
“You’re welcome.”
She started to walk away, started to go get
her room and get some sleep, but her belly was garbling with hunger and she
could smell grease in the air. She turned from her place in the shadows to see
Clark leaning against the wall of the gas station. Something in her gut told
her he didn’t have money, a place to sleep or anyone to help him. He’d been so
kind to her it didn’t seem right taking off and just leaving him there.
“Hey!”
He looked her way and lifted his chin in
acknowledgement.
“Wanna walk a girl with a gun over?”
Without hesitation he grabbed his bag and
started her way, his easy smile on his lips.
…
The
motel office was small and neatly kept, tended to by an old man with white hair
and brown eyes. He
recognized Clark at once and looked happy to see him.
“Clark, you’re passing through?”
“Hey, Mr. Larsen. Yeah, I’m passing
through.”
“Room six is open.”
“Thanks but no money. This girl here had a
flat and I wanted to make sure she got here safely.”
Mr. Larsen nodded. “You’re a fine young
man, Clark. Like I always said, your parents raised you right. You can have the
room in exchange for some painting work that needs doing, if you’re interested.
The job is good for a week. Plus some cleaning. My niece went off to school and
I haven’t replaced her yet.”
Clark nodded his agreement. “Sure, that’d
be great.”
“I wouldn’t mind applying for the cleaning
job,” Chloe said. “I could stand a paycheck, unless you need both jobs, Clark.”
“No, I can share the work,” Clark said,
looking to Mr. Larsen.”
“Well, it’s not a well paying job...” the
elderly man said. He was hesitant to take on two employees at once. Chloe
suspected the lack of cars outside the rooms was partly responsible for that.
She had no doubt that May was still slow for him and wouldn’t pick up until
summer came and tourists hit the road for their vacations.
“Something tells me she’s a hard worker,”
Clark said, vouching for her, trying to help her even if it meant money out of
his own pocket.
He studied them both, rolled out over in
his mind, and then nodded. “All right, it’s a deal. You’ll get free rent and a
paycheck. You buy your own food.”
“Deal,” they said in unison.
He gave them their keys and they took rooms
six and seven. She stopped after she opened her door, her weary body anxious to
sleep in a real bed for a few days, and looked Clark’s way.
“Thanks for helping me get this job,” she
said. “Wanna grab a late dinner from the vending machine? My treat.”
Clark looked uncomfortable taking any sort
of charity but Chloe was willing to bet the growl in his stomach was gonna
convince him to take her up on the offer. After a moment’s hesitation Clark
agreed. Chloe reached in her purse and grabbed her wallet, took out eight one
dollar bills and passed them to him. As big as he was he looked like he had an
appetite.
“A bag of whatever is salty and a Mountain
Dew for me. You use the rest for yourself.”
“Thanks. I owe you. He returned five
minutes later and gave Chloe her snacks.
“Goodnight, Miss Lane,” he said, a playful
smile on his lips.
“Goodnight, Mr. Kent.”
His brows raised and she shook her head at
his surprise, that she’d gleaned his last name. “You’re not the only one who
knows how to sneak a glance at the registration log.”
…
Chloe
entered her room and switched on the light. She expected cheap motel room chic with
ugly, thin, floral print comforters and worn, stained carpets. What she found
instead was a clean carpet, dark blue, a single bed with a pretty white comforter
and four soft pillows. The furniture was made of real wood, not the ugly but
functional composite stuff. The lamps on the little beside tables looked like
they’d cost more than ten dollars at a dollar store. Clark was right...it was
clean as well as nice. Too nice for the price he was charging.
The bed looked so inviting but Chloe
contented herself to throw her bag on the chair and grab a change of clothes.
Everything in the bag had been worn at least once so they didn’t smell too
badly. Still, she’d have to find a way to wash them. Maybe Mr. Larsen would let
her use his laundry when she washed the sheets.
The towels and washcloths fully lived up to
expectations of an economy motel and she had no doubt he lost a lot of those
from guests stealing them and couldn’t afford quality. They weren’t luxury but
they were functional and Chloe was looking forward to a hot shower as well as
sleeping in a real bed.
“Oh, God,” she said, when the spray hit
her, drenching her. The heat sank into her muscles, muscles she hadn’t been
aware were tense until they loosened under the hot water. She’d been washing up
in gas station bathrooms for days, aware for the first time in her life what a
luxury a hot shower could be.
The soda was cold and sweet, the Munchos
were salty, and she stood at the window to eat them, watching two vehicles pull
into the lot. The first was a tiny car that looked like a breeze could blow it
off the road. A young man in a rumpled suit climbed out and went to the office.
The second car was a land boat from the
seventies. If Chloe had a car like that she would have tried to live out of it,
but she imagined the middle aged man who got out speed for the same reasons she
had: real rest. He slammed the heavy door, which looked like it weighed as much
as the little hybrid that had preceded him, it’s hinges squeaking and
complaining. The man looked like a roadie for some 80s hair band. He rubbed his
eyes wearily and trudged up to the office as well, pulling out his wallet as he
went.
Chloe trashed her snack when she finished
and made sure the chain was on the door before lying down.
Another “Oh, God,” moaned from her mouth
when she climbed under the covers. The bed was soft. She’d expected something
hard but it was wonderful, a welcome change from her car. With the light out
the room was dark. She started at the ceiling and let her mind wander for a
moment ago her thoughts wouldn’t keep her awake.
Everyone had a story and Chloe wondered
what Clark Kent’s story was. He wasn’t new to the road, or didn’t seem to be,
and he was smart enough to keep his name clean when he came through a town. She
even bet he was using his real name. She kicked herself for using her real
first name and her cousins last name. She was just begging to be found, making
it easy. Clark, however, didn’t seem to her to be running from anyone He looked
like he’d probably come from a good family. She doubted he’d ever been abused,
at least not physically, and judging by his kindness he probably hadn’t been
emotionally abused either. He had a powerful build on him. There was no way
anyone pushed him around; at least not easily.
So why was he on the road? Did he just want
to see the world? Was he looking for something? Or had something bad invaded
his good, easy life, and in turn that had set him on the road? Regardless of
his reasons she felt like she’d had a turn off luck in meeting him that would
prove to be better than she’d imagined at first, or so she hoped.
She considered her own life, considered the
luxury she’d abandoned for the unknown. She’d rather be on the road, alone,
broke, hungry and in danger of strangers and predators rather than give in to
the advances of the predator in the house of her guardian, Lionel Luthor, and
that was his son, Lex.
Lex wasn’t the only one who expected things
from her that she had no intentions of giving. Lionel, his father, expected Lex
to marry and he wanted him to marry well. That didn’t mean a rich woman. No,
that meant a woman of his choosing, a woman he’d molded, shaped, groomed. As
the years passed, as Chloe’s intellect had sharpened, her genius worthy of a
Luthor, as she developed emotionally with a strong will that the Luthor family
patriarch had nurtured, Lex had warmed to the idea of wedding his father’s
charge. As she’d blossomed, physically, he’d also warmed to the idea of bedding
her, too.
In fact, he’d grown increasingly unwilling
to wait for a wedding before he started trying to take her to his bed. When she
told Daddy Luthor of his son’s attempts she’d realized she would have no protection,
no ally in her so-called guardian. That, in Chloe’s mind, meant Lionel wasn’t a
guardian so much as a warden, a jailer...a pimp.
Well, she was no man’s whore and she left
with the cash she’d literally saved in a piggy bank she’d kept under her bed.
She’d left in a car given to her by her cousin, Lois, who promised she wouldn’t
tell a soul where Chloe had gone.
Three days later she was here, in this
cheap, but clean and pleasant, little motel room. She didn’t miss the comfort
and grandeur of the Luthor home. She didn’t miss Lex’s stares, or his seeking,
hungry touches to her shoulders that conveyed exactly what he wanted, which had
nothing to do with brotherly love.
Her eyes were too heavy to stay open. Chloe
put her dollar store, prepaid, perfectly anonymous prepaid Android phone on to
charge, set the alarm to five a.m., and snuggled deep into the comforter.
She had a job to start tomorrow.
…
Four
hours of sleep wasn’t a lot to operate on but the promise of a cup of hot
coffee woke Chloe up and motivated her to grab Clark and had over to grab some
breakfast. She
knocked on the door to room six and he answered right away, liking fully awake
and spring a bright, cheerful smile.
“Oh no, this is awful,” she said, leading
him across the street to a Waffle House.
“What’s awful?”
“You’re a morning person. I had such hopes
for you to be a normal guy that I could relate to.”
Clark had kind eyes, and though he was
reserved he smiled easily. He gave her one of those beautiful smiles now. “Morning
is the best part of the day.”
“God, what are you? A farmer or something?”
“Yeah, actually,” he said.
She made a sound of mock disgust and walked
in when he opened the door. “I’ll bet you’ve got your own corn pipe and
overalls just waiting for you at home.”
Chloe’s empty belly rumbled at the smell of
bacon and other foods in the air. They sat at a table and looked at the menus.
“Order what you want. Breakfast is the most
important meal of the day.”
“My dad’s philosophy was the same,” Clark
said. “I just...”
She knew he didn’t want her buying him
breakfast, or anything, for that matter, and tapped at his menu.
“This isn’t charity, it’s credit. You’re
paying me back, mister. Besides, I’ve got enough food money to last awhile.”
“What’ll you have?” their waitress asked.
She readied her pad and stared at Clark. Chloe may as well have been invisible
for all the attention this waitress gave her.
“I’ll have three fried eggs, a bowl of
grits with extra butter, four slices of bacon, four sausage links, two waffles,
and a large orange juice,” he told the waitress.
“You’re certainly built for a meal like
that,” she said, and then winked at him, which annoyed Chloe. She wasn’t
exactly jealous...Well, maybe a tiny bit, but for all that waitress knew
she was Clark’s girlfriend, yet she was flirting with him right in front of
her.
Then again, Chloe wasn’t surprised. She had
a killer figure but face wise she’d never considered herself a raging beauty.
She was far from ugly, pretty, even, but she’d never be a model and women would
never fear their men would take one look at her face and dump them. Our so she
believed. The waitress must have thought along the same lines because she’d
clearly made no assumptions that Chloe could have landed a man as gorgeous as
Clark Kent.
“Grits?” Chloe asked, pretending the
waitresses snub, her utter refusal to so much as look at Chloe but stare at
Clark.
“You’ve never had grits?” he asked, his
face filled with genuine incredulity, despite his discomfort at the unnerving
level of focus from their waitress, who hovered over them.
“I’ve never even heard of them.”
“I’ll share mine. They’re delicious.”
Chloe cleared her throat as they sat there
waiting for the waitress to ask Chloe her order.
“I’m not here alone,” Clark finally said.
“Oh, of course,” she said with a fake,
breathy chuckle, and turned to Chloe. “For you?”
“Scrambled egg, a slice of toast, a slice
of bacon, and a small orange juice.”
“Would you care for a cup of coffee while
you wait?” she asked Clark.
“Gee boy howdy would we,” Chloe said with
false cheer. This earned her a scathing rake of the eyes from Chloe’s face down
followed by the phoniest from Chloe had ever seen.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I’ll count the seconds until your return,”
Chloe told her, which earned a chuckle from Clark.
Chloe watched the waitress leave. She had a
pretty face, wasn’t much older than them, and her skirt hugged her somewhat
passable bottom like a lover’s caress. Apparently it had grabbed Clark’s
attention, too.
“That waitress was really rude,” he said.
“You think?” Chloe said, still annoyed.
“She flirted with me in front of you, acted
like you didn’t exist.”
“Well, we’re not a couple, so...”
“She doesn’t know that,” Clark said, every
bit as put off as Chloe.
Chloe found herself smiling. Clark Kent may
have been a stranger but he thought along the same lines she did.
“I come in with a pretty girl she could at
least act professional.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“Well...yeah. Don’t you?”
“No,” she said honestly.
“Why?”
He seemed so genuinely curious, so confused
as to how she couldn’t think herself to be beautiful, that she had a hard time
explaining her insecurities. She
shrugged and chalked it up to, “It’s a girl thing.”
When their coffee arrived she poured for
Clark first, then Chloe.
“I wonder if she expects a tip?” Chloe
said. The fry cook caught her eye. He glanced between Chloe and the waitress,
looking seen. He was an older man with a clean shaven face and black hair
beginning to gray.
“You’ve been this way a few times, haven’t
you?”
“No, this is my second pass through.”
“Really? You made such an impression on Mr.
Larsen. I thought maybe you came through frequently.”
“I was here last year, heading home from a
trip to Nebraska. Had my dad’s truck that time. His office was on fire and he’d
passed out from smoke inhalation. I saved him, put the fire out, and stayed for
a few days to help him rebuild.”
“So, you’re a hero.”
He looked embarrassed. “Hardly. I just like
to help when I can.”
“Humble, too. So, let me evaluate my list
of things I’ve learned about Clark Kent: Humble? Check. Hot? Check. Hero?
Check.”
He sat shaking his head, looking thoroughly
embarrassed. They drank their coffee simply to have something to do with their
hands and something to look at other than one another’s eyes. At least Chloe
did. Clark could somehow gaze into her eyes without making her feel awkward.
Chloe was afraid to return the look for two long because she felt as though he
was reading her, peeling her apart and seeing every layer without judging.
It wasn’t that Chloe didn’t want to make
the sexy farmer a friend. She just didn’t like how easy it was to want to open
up to him. Her life was a closed book and she wanted him to know her, to open
herself to him so he could read through the pages of her book and not skip a
single story.
She wanted to do the same with him and they’d
meet less than twelve hours ago. Was this connection she wanted to make because
of something to do with Clark? Or was it simply that she’d been alone too long
in this world, starved for affection that wasn’t freely given out of love but
doled out as a reward for obeying a command like she was a particularly clever
dog? Clark was the first nice person she’d met who wasn’t tied to Lionel or Lex
Luthor.
Even if that was the case, Chloe thought,
sipping her coffee, would it matter? Making new friends, of her own choosing,
was what she wanted, part of her reasons for leaving Metropolis and striking
out on her own.
“Good morning.”
The cook, who’d been watching them earlier,
now had their food in hand, balanced on a tray. Chloe looked for their waitress
and saw she was behind the counter with a sulky pout on her face, watching
someone else serve.
“I take it this monster is yours?” he
joked, handing Chloe Clark’s mega breakfast before sliding it to the man in
question.
“Let me know if you need anything else. I’m
Bill. Just wave at me.”
“Thanks, Bill,” Chloe said.
As soon as he was gone Clark put salt and
pepper on his buttered grits and offered Chloe the first bite.
“Oh, wow. Those are good,” she said.
“Grab your spoon. We’ll share.”
…
After
breakfast they left the Waffle House, Clark with the waitress’s number written
on the back of the receipt that had been handed to Chloe, and that he promptly
threw away, and went back to the motel. Chloe was a little excited, she had to
admit. This was her first real job and she even had to remind herself how silly
she was for being exited that she was going to have a uniform being when she
learned she wouldn’t have a uniform.
She was also relieved she wouldn’t have to
clean in her clothes. It wasn’t like she had a lot. She only had a few pairs of
jeans and a few shirts, all she’d been able to sneak out when she left
Metropolis, and she hadn’t been exited at the idea of ruining them her first
day on the job.
Mr. Larsen welcomed her to the office and
she realized it looked to have been recently decorated. She wondered how badly
the fire had damaged the office before Clark managed to put it out.
“I won’t be able to go with you on your
first room, I’m sorry. I have to watch the front desk until Ben comes in for
the ten-to-ten shift.”
“You have to work twelve hour shifts?”
He nodded. “Seven days a week until I get more
employees.”
“I’m only staying a week,” Chloe said,
feeling guilty at the idea of leaving the old man without housekeeping when she
left. “I’ll be moving on when Clark does.”
He patted her arm. “I had a feeling you
would. Don’t you worry, young lady. You seem like the kind of girl out chasing
a dream and I want you to do that. Here’s your uniform. You go and change and I’ll
show you how to put your cart together. This belonged to my niece but I think
you can fit it.”
The uniform didn’t exactly fit. His niece
had an entirely different body than Chloe. Chloe must have been a lot taller,
for one, because the uniform was a bit short on Chloe. It was also tighter,
especially around the bosom. She looked like she was in a Halloween costume
when she checked her reflection in the mirror. The gray dress was a button down
that strained at her breasts and the white collar and tips of the arms hugged
her tightly.
The idea of showing up at Clark’s room in
this outfit, and what kind of reaction he’d have when he saw her, amused Chloe.
Would he ask her to change the wastebaskets and watch the skirt ride up when she
bent over to change out the little bags? Would he possibly come up behind her
and place his hands on her hips and possibly press himself--
She cut off those thoughts when she felt
her pulse quicken and her center moisten, ever so softly.
Chloe came into the office and Mr. Larsen’s
eyes widened. “Oh, no,” he said. “That simply won’t due, will it? Sandy is a
very slight girl. I just didn’t think you’d…fill it out…quite that much.”
“I can clean in my own clothes.”
“That may be best. I’ll pay to replace them
should you damage them in any way. In the meantime, I’ll show you where
everything is and give you a checklist of what needs done in each room.”
Chloe was given a cart, showed which
supplies she should have on it, and a checklist. She was shown where the linens
were stored, which was on a row of long shelves in the laundry, along with
towels and washcloths, and little courtesy bars of soap, shampoo, and
conditioner, as well as cups to sit on the sinks. Once she was fully stocked
she was given the keys to the rooms and a list of which rooms were currently in
need of turning over.”
She pushed her cart outside. She’d go to
her room and change into a pair of jeans and one of her tee-shirts before she
started work. The air was chilly and a brisk wind had picked up. She almost
immediately ran into Clark who was carrying some painting supplies to a room
and his eyes widened.
“Wow…Sandy never looked like that in her
uniform,” he said.
She tried not to blush and waved him away. “Keep
moving, mister. Nothing to see here.”
“Ma’am,” he replied, and disappeared into
the room he was working on.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
The man renting room eight, next to Chloe’s,
was in the doorway, his eyes raking over her body. He seemed embarrassed when
she caught him staring, especially at her chest since the cool air had
stiffened her nipples, and cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
“I, uh, I made something of a mess in the
bathroom. Didn’t realize the shower curtain wasn’t closed all the way. You
wouldn’t happen to have a mop I could borrow?”
“I’ll get it,” she offered, and grabbed the
mop off her cart and headed into the room. She mopped up the small puddle,
something he could have easily cleaned up with a towel, and started to leave
but he blocked the door.
“I’m Devon,” he said, offering a hand.
She shook it. “Chloe. Excuse me.”
Devon stepped to the side, still blocking
her path. He pulled out a fifty dollar bill and waved it in her face. “So…what
other things do you take care of? Any messes you’re willing to make?”
“If you mean rolling around in the sheets
with you then the answers no. Now move, please.”
She finally got around him and reached for
the door. It was only opened a few
inches before he braced his hand against it and shoved it shut with enough
force to yank the doorknob from her hand. His other hand came to rest on her
hip.
“Get off me right now and let go of the
door.”
“I don’t think I will,” he answered.
“You don’t want me to fight back.”
“You don’t want me telling your boss you
tried to rob me, either.”
She tried the door again but he held it
shut and he flicked the lock shut with a smooth motion that looked practiced,
like he’d done this before to the housekeeping staff of other motels. A moment
later his hand came around to rub low on her belly, before inching further
down, right on her womanhood.
“Be a good girl,” he whispered in her ear.
A moment later she brought her foot down,
hard, on his bare foot and he cried out in pain. She elbowed him in the chin,
turned and brought her knee up and into his groin but missed. It still made him
cry out again. Rather than going down, like she’d hoped he would, he gripped
her by the throat and threw her to the floor, coming after her with rage in
this eyes.
“Fucking bitch!”
“Get off me!” she shouted, scared but ready
to fight, ready to scream.
The door to his room all but exploded open.
Clark was there, framed in the doorway, the bright sunlight haloed his head as
he stood there with fists clenched.
Devon turned with his face full of rage. “Get
out, kid. This is none of your business.”
“Actually, it is.”
Clark walked toward them and Devon surged
forward to shove him back. It was like hitting a brick wall. Clark didn’t budge
the slightest bit. He didn’t even move when Devon punched him square on the jaw
and Devon grunted in pain as though he’d just punched a cinderblock wall. He
cradled his hand just before Clark punched him and sent him crumbling to the
floor.
“Chloe, are you okay?” he asked as he knelt
beside her.
She’d never been so damned angry in her
life but she nodded. “Yeah. Just…I thought I could handle him. I’ve been give
self-defense lessons. Guess it didn’t work so well in the real world.”
“You would have got him,” Clark assured
her, before gently brushing an errant lock of hair away from her forehead. He
offered her hand pulled her to her feet. “Come on. We’ll tell Mr. Larsen about
this guy.”
…
“Man,
these jeans cost two hundred bucks,” Chloe said. She looked at the jeans and
shirt that were spotted with bleach stains and permanently ruined.
After the police took her statement and
arrested Devon for attempted rape, a weighty charge she planned to see through
to the end, she’d finished her first day of work in her jeans and tee-shirt.
She’d changed into them before the cops got there. She didn’t want them to see
her in that uniform and she didn’t want him to be able to use her clothing as
an excuse to say she invited the man to rape her. She watched him try to talk
his way out of it, say she was dressed like a slut, that it wasn’t his fault.
She also wondered how many women he’d raped in his time but had managed to get
away with it.
That wasn’t the only thing she wondered.
How in the hell had Clark burst into a locked room with such ease? Sure, he was
strong, but that door had been locked with a deadbolt. The room would have to
be closed down until the lock could be repaired, a job Clark offered to do
without payment.
“You spent two hundred dollars on a pair of
jeans?” Clark asked. There were twenty rooms and so far only three were
occupied. It looked like sweet Mr. Larsen didn’t see a lot of business even
though he was on the highway, and probably wouldn’t until tourist season hit in
the upcoming summer vacation.
“Well, I didn’t but my guardian did.”
They were now sitting on the curb beside
her car, which had a set of new tires on it, eating cheeseburgers and French
fries and sipping sodas. She’d never been allowed to eat junk food with the
Luthors. Lionel wanted her in shape for his boy. Just knowing he’d be livid
that she was eating fried food made her relish every single bite of her burger
with petty satisfaction.
“May I ask a personal question?” Clark
asked.
“Shoot,” she said, savoring the cheese and
the meat, and hoped he wasn’t going to ask, for the millionth time, if she was
okay.
“You look like you come from money.”
She raised her brows at him. “Do I?”
“Yeah. Expensive clothes, manicured hands,
perfect skin, coifed hair; I’ll bet you’ve got perfectly pedicured feet, too.
So…why you out here on the road, alone?”
“Wow,” she said, smiling. “That is personal.”
“I won’t get mad if you don’t
want to answer,” he said, but he was looking at her with hope that she would
clear in his eyes.
“I wasn’t happy at home,” she said.
When she didn’t volunteer more he left it
at that and she was grateful.
“What about you? What are you running from?”
“I’m not. I’m searching for something.”
“What, were you adopted and you’re looking
for your birth parents or something?”
He eyed her with something dangerously
close to suspicion. “That’s twice you’ve hit the nail on the head with me. You
some kinda spy or something, Miss Lane?”
She burst into laughter. “Oh my God, I was
kidding! Lucky guesses.”
“That’s a lot of luck.”
“I’m good at reading people,” she said,
balling her paper up and stuffing it into the bag. “I’m very perceptive and
have a high IQ and you’re not that hard to read.”
He snorted and finished his final bite
before grabbing their bags and putting the trash into a nearby receptacle. She
watched him move, watched the muscles in his back, watched how they sloped to
his narrow waist and rounded ass. He was a fine piece of man, that was for
sure, built for hard labor but he wasn’t all brawn and no brains. Chloe could
sense that. So, he was a teen out on the road looking for his birth parents.
She found that kind of sad. At least she knew her father was dead and her
mother was insane and institutionalized. Clark didn’t know anything about his
birth parents.
“You had any luck with finding them?”
He shook his head. “None, which is why I’m
heading home at the end of this job. Mom’s worried about me.”
“You haven’t called her?”
“I call every day. She still worries.”
“Must be nice to have parents to worry for
you,” she said softly.
Clark studied her for a long while,
probably wondering what had happened to her parents but knowing it was too soon
to ask.
“My dad’s dead. He had a heart attack last
year. Mom understands why I need to look, though.”
“I’m sorry you lost your father. My dad
died in a car accident when I was ten. I know what it’s like to lose your
father.”
He held out a hand and pulled Chloe to her
feet. They stood looking at one another, their eyes darting around one another
until briefly they made shy eye contact over this shared bit of news.
“I’m gonna squeeze in a few hours of work.
I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He started to walk away but Chloe tapped
his arm. “Listen, if it’s not too late when you finish up, and you’re not too
tired, I thought maybe you’d like to watch a movie in my room?”
His eyebrows lifted and she felt her face
and neck heat with embarrassment.
“I just want to see a movie, that’s all. I’m
not trying to seduce you or anything.”
He let his eyebrows fall and put on an
exaggerated air of disappointment that made her want to giggle. Giggling just
wasn’t Chloe’s thing, normally at least, but she thought perhaps Clark was the
kind of guy who wouldn’t mind. “That’s too bad. We farm boys like big city
girls with beautiful eyes trying to seduce them.”
“Oh, my God,” she said, turning away before
he could see how bright her face had gotten. “Get back to work, mister.”
“Yes, Miss Lane.”
He was back two hours later, freshly
scrubbed and wearing clean clothes. He even brought snacks, candy bars and
potato chips and soda.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t rob the vending
machine. I got a small advance on my pay so I’m treating you. What movie we
watching?”
“Terminator: Judgment Day. This trip is
going to make me fat,” Chloe said, eyeballing the snacks Clark had tossed onto
the bed.
“I love that movie,” he said, and settled
his huge frame into the chair beside the bed before he tore into a candy bar.
Chloe lay on her belly and turned the TV on. It was an old set with a crummy
display, static ringing the edges, but it didn’t bother them. They were soon
they were lost in the movie and eating their snacks and just enjoying each
other’s company.
That became their routine. She’d go to his
room, or he’d come to hers, and they’d watch whatever movie they could find
until one night Chloe felt like going for a drive. She only had two days left
on the job, two days before she and Clark parted company and she wanted to do
something fun, something out in the air. Only she didn’t want to be the one
behind the wheel. She just wanted to get out, get some fresh air since they
were having a nice warm evening. She threw Clark the keys and they pulled out
of the parking lot to hit the road, heading in the same direction Chloe had
been driving the night she met Clark.
“You know any pretty places around here?”
she asked, the warm air blowing through her hair.
“I do, yeah. It’s about twenty minutes from
here.”
They pulled up to what amounted to a
mountain in Kansas but was really just a hill. It was high enough to show them
a sweeping vista of open, flat land. Not too far from that was a pond that was
deserted.
“Wanna dive in?” he asked, smiling at her.
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Swim in your clothes.”
“No! Then I’d drench the car.”
He nodded. “Then swim in your undies.”
He was staring at her with such a playful
smile, tinged with a little challenge, that she felt daring enough to pull her
top off while looking him in the eye. He didn’t maintain contact. Rather, he
allowed his eyes to roam lower. He stood there, watching, as she reached to
unfasten her jeans but her sudden burst of courage failed her.
“I’ll turn away, give you some privacy,” he
said, and went to the edge of the water to wait. She kicked off her socks and
shoes and laid her jeans and shirt over them.
“All done,” she said, and came to stand
beside him. “Your turn.”
“You showed me yours so now I have to show
you mine?” he teased.
“Unless the water’s too cold,” she said.
“Then we won’t be seeing much of anything.”
“I have a feeling it’ll be just right,” he
answered, and pulled off his shirt.
Chloe stood frozen, looking at Clark’s body.
He was insanely developed, his muscles large but well defined.
“You could be a model,” she told him.
“Nah. I hate getting my picture taken.”
She decided to pay him the same courtesy of
looking away while he undressed even though he didn’t look at all uncomfortable
with taking his clothes off in front of her. It was an honest chore pulling her
eyes away from him as he unzipped his pants. He had that beautiful trail of dark
hair that went from his navel and disappeared into his boxers.
Chloe approached the water and stuck a toe
in. The water was cold but not icy like she’d expected. She was going to wade
slowly in when suddenly Clark scooped her off her feet.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s best to just get the shock over
with,” he said, walking into the water as though it was a warm bath. He didn’t
even get gooseflesh like she did when he tossed her in.
Chloe came up gasping for air. “Clark!”
Her expression only made him laugh, which
in turn made her want to splash him in the face, which she did. Then he ducked
under and she saw him moving through the water like a merman who was made to be
there. He was good at holding his breath, too, because he was under for a long
time. So long, in fact, she’d just begun to worry when he popped up about a
hundred feet from her.
“Can’t swim?” he asked.
“Oh, I can swim,” she said, but she took a
moment to just gaze at him, watched the water dripping from his face, and
basked in the beauty of that damned smile of his. God, he was beautiful.
Chloe went under and swam toward him. Her
lungs were burning by the time she reached him and when she came up he gripped
her arms, holding her up until she caught her breath.
“You’re so warm,” she said, shivering a
little in the cold. In fact, as he touched her she felt warmer, as though he
was imparting his body heat to her.
“Then stay close. If you get too cold we’ll
get out.”
Stay close she did, with them circling one
another, moving closer toward the center of the pond.
“Where do you plan to go from here?” he
asked.
Chloe shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t
given it a lot of thought, really. You’re going home and I guess I’m looking
for a new one.”
“You’ll go exactly where you should,” he
said, speaking with such confidence she couldn’t help but believe him. The sad
part was that she knew he wouldn’t be there.
“So, you’re going to be a farmer like your
parents?”
He nodded. “Probably. I’ll work the fields
and…I don’t know.”
“I want to be a reporter. My dream is to
work for the Daily Planet.”
“I’ll see your name in print someday,” he
said.
“Maybe. I’m probably not good enough for
the Planet.”
“Or is the Planet good enough for you?” he asked.
“You know, you’re awesome for a girl’s self
esteem,” she said. “It’s getting dark, the water is getting colder, and I’m
ready to go back for a hot shower and some din-din. What do you say?”
“I say it’s a date. Hop on. I’ll swim us
back.”
“You sure? We’re pretty far out here.”
He simply nodded for her to climb on so she
did, wrapping her arms around his neck while he started forward. She was amazed
at the feel of his muscles working beneath her. She was amazed at how powerful
a swimmer he was. He moved through the water like he was simply walking down
the street, pulling them along without so much as working up his breath. He
gripped her legs and walked them from the pond before setting her down.
She moved to her clothes and heard him make
an odd sound, something between a gasp and a moan. She turned to him and
noticed two things. One, she could practically see through the thin cotton of
his boxers, which clung to him like a second skin and leaving nothing to the
imagination. Second, his eyes looked red in the faded evening light. She knew
it was impossible for his eyes to actually glow with inner red light but that’s
what it looked like. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at them as though
they’d started itching.
Then she realized that if she could see
through his underwear, he most certainly could see through hers. Had that been
the source of that undeniably wanton sound that had escaped him or was she
simply wishing it? She glanced down and realized her simple cotton bra was
doing nothing to hide her erect nipples, or the patch of blond curls between
her legs. He was looking back at her now, dragging his eyes over her body, and
the red gleam she imagined she’d seen was now gone.
“This is why it’s not a good idea to swim
in your panties, I guess,” she joked, trying to break the tension. He nodded
but from the way he stared at her he thought her swimming in her panties had
been a damn fine idea. She pulled on her clothes, stole another glance at the
impressive member encased in the material of his boxers, ignored how the only
really warm spot on her body was between her legs, and tied her shoes, ready to
get back to the motel, and their ritual of a movie and snacks.
…
Clark
loved junk food. She
did too but she’d had to swear it off just keep from exploding out of her
clothes. On their last night of work they went to a grocery store and got a
salad from the deli for her while he contented himself with his usual candy
bars and soda. Clark ate like he’d never have to gain a single unwanted pound
and judging by his body that just may be true. Chloe cursed his fast metabolism
and grabbed a bottle of water.
He liked action movies and rom-coms, and
anything with Melissa McCarthy. In fact, Chloe was beginning to wonder if he
didn’t have a secret crush on good ole Melissa which told Chloe that Clark wasn’t
shallow despite being young. They rented Tammy
and settled down to watch. Unlike most comedies she watched, Chloe actually
thought this one was funny, and laughed aloud several times with Clark.
“My job’s done,” he said, after the movie
ended and it was just them, in the softly lit and silent room. “You staying
here to work?”
“Nah, I’ve already told him I’m moving on.
He’s got a guy for the housekeeping job so he doesn’t need me.”
Clark was nodding off. Chloe’s eyes felt
heavy. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes.
“I should go,” he said, seeing she was as
tired as he was.
“You don’t have to,” she said, and patted
the bed behind her. “Come on. I don’t bite.”
He waited so long to move she was sure he
wasn’t going to join her, but then she heard his shoes clunk heavily to the
floor and the bed dipped and protested under his weight.
“You’re heavier than you look,” she said
sleepily.
“I’m a man made of steel,” he said, and she
chuckled lightly. Though in all honesty he was so strong, felt so solid, he
wasn’t too far off the mark on that comment.
Clark wrapped an arm around Chloe and settled
in behind her. She was amazed by how warm he was, despite the chill in the air.
She yawned again and felt herself begin to slip
into sleep. “You’re so warm.”
“Go to sleep,” he whispered. “You’re safe.
I’ll behave myself.”
She thought about how she didn’t want him
to behave, not on their last night, but she didn’t have the courage to try for
more. She was still afraid of rejection, especially after he’d hesitated so
long before climbing into bed behind her. For all his flirting she had it in
her mind that friendship was all he wanted. Just as well, since they were parting
ways in the morning.
He flipped the light out and pulled her
against him. He was like a wall of muscle that smelled of soap and fresh air,
and it was those scents that followed her into dreams of standing in a field of
high, golden grass. Clark was some distance away and moving toward her with his
hands outstretched. When she reached him he picked her up and held her close.
“You’re safe with me, Chloe.
…
There
was a heaviness in Chloe’s chest when Mr. Larsen paid Chloe. He gave her four hundred dollars
in cash, much more than she felt she deserved since all she’d done was clean
rooms and wash a bit of laundry. At least business had begun to pick up and now
he was at three quarters capacity. He’d
make a few dollars, at least.
“Job well done, Miss Lane,” he said. “If
you’re ever on hard times and in this area, and you need work, look me up. I’ll
find something for you to do. Same goes for Clark, but he knows that.”
“I will Mr. Larsen. Thank you.”
She started to leave but her curiosity got
the better of her. “Mr. Larsen, Clark said your office caught fire last year?”
He nodded. “Yes, during a robbery. It was
so strange…”
“Strange how?”
“Well, the place was deserted. A man had a
gun pointed at my chest. He was a drug addict, you know, in need of a ‘fix’ as
they say. He was desperate. Business was slow since it was the off season and I
only had fifty dollars in the register. The thief was sure there was more, that
I was holding out. He left, then came back in and started dousing the room with
gasoline. I tried calling the cops but realized he’d cut the phone line before
he even came inside.”
He was so lost in thought that he stopped,
remembering that night with haunted eyes.
“Then what happened?”
“He lit the room on fire. I remember he was
trembling with rage, slobbering, just…angrier and more desperate than I’d ever
seen anyone in my sixty-four years of life. He pointed the gun at me and I know I heard the gunshot but…I woke up
on the floor. I was perfectly fine except a little smoke inhalation and there
was Clark, standing over me. He’d tied the man up and the fire was out. He
carried me outside to get some fresh air, brought the thief out, and waited
while the police came. I’m telling you, Miss Lane. I’d be a dead man right now
if it wasn’t for Clark Kent.”
“He’s a hero,” she said.
Mr. Larsen nodded in agreement and said,
enthusiastically, with a sort of reverence, “That he is.”
Chloe went to her car, smiling at the
thought of what Clark had done, at how good of a man he was. Clark was waiting
with money to hand over to pay her back for his food.
“I don’t want it,” she said, refusing to
take it. They had a silly argument but Chloe brow beat Clark into keeping his
cash.
“You’ll need that when you go back out on
the road, so save it.”
“What about you? You’ll have to eat while
you’re out there,” he reminded her.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Would you be
creeped out if I said I’m really gonna miss you?”
“No because I was trying to figure out how
to say it to you.”
Chloe bit her lower lip before she said, “We
could be in one of those rom-coms you like so much, right now.”
“Farmer boy meets worldly rich girl on the
run. They get close...not as close as he wanted...then part when their job at
the cheap motel ends,” he summarized.
Chloe bit her lip again. He’d wanted to get
closer. She had, too, but the time had come and gone and now she regretted not
pushing for more the night before, when they could have shared something
besides sleep.
“I’m heading west,” she said.
“Drive carefully and beware of strangers. I
put my number in your phone. Call if you ever want someone to talk to. If you
ever need me, I’ll find a way to get to you.”
“I guess this is goodbye, Mr. Kent.”
“See you again someday, I hope, Miss Lane.”
“Sullivan. My real last name is Sullivan. I
just used my cousin’s last name as an alias.”
“Miss Sullivan,” he said, without
questioning why she’d used an alias. He’d just accepted it and she was grateful
for that. It was strange how good it was to hear her real name spoken in his
voice, from his lips. He spoke it with such familiarity it was as though he’d
been saying her name all his life. It was as though he was meant to say it for
years to come.
She was hoping, when he leaned forward,
that they’d have that big kiss that couples always had at the end of those romance
flicks. Suddenly those movies didn’t seem so silly anymore to Chloe. He didn’t
attempt anything deep. Like the man himself it was a simple kiss, very close to
the corner of her mouth, and she wondered, if she turned her head just so,
would he close the gap and cover her lips with his? Would he seek more?
Chloe’s courage failed her and the moment
had passed. That seemed to be the story of her life; missing opportunities
because she didn’t have the courage to seize the day. Carpe diem had always
frightened her.
He held the door to her car open and then shut
it behind her. It was a warm day and she decided to ride with the top down. Once
she was buckled in she gave him a lingering glance and then pulled intothe gas
station across the way to top off the tank and grab some java. When she pulled
onto the road she looked into her rearview mirror and saw Clark was walking in
the opposite direction.
She watched until he disappeared from
sight.
…
Forty minutes dragged by like forty days. The further Chloe got from
Clark the harder it became to keep her foot on the gas pedal. It felt wrong to leave him, felt like she was
giving up something vital, like there was some invisible cord that had formed
between them and every single inch that passed beneath the tires of her car was
stretching it thinner. It refused to break, that bond, but it stretched and
caused pain and misery and it would always do so, she just knew it, as long as
she was apart from Clark. She wondered, as she drove, if he felt the same way,
if he’d felt that same connection and wanted to draw closer to her rather than
far away. She prayed she wasn’t being creepy, latching onto the first nice guy
to come along simply because she’d spent too many years longing for love but
never receiving it.
Seize
the day, she
told herself. Just once, do something
right. Be brave.
Traffic was sparse so it was easy for Chloe
to turn the tiny car around without worrying about causing a wreck or angry horns
blasting at her. She did a quick U turn and floored it, pushing the vehicle
twenty miles per hour past the speed limit. She kept an eye out for the cops
and thanked the stars when she returned to the motel without getting caught.
“Please still be on the road,” Chloe said
quietly.
She knew the likelihood of someone picking
him up was pretty damn good. He was a young, clean cut guy with a friendly
face. If some trucker didn’t pick him up some woman probably would take the
chance he wouldn’t turn out to be some sicko. Knowing Chloe’s luck it would be
that thirsty waitress from the Waffle House.
She drove on, moving past the exit to the little
motel she’d called home the past week, kept going until she spotted that black
backpack bouncing against the bright red shirt he favored. When he turned to
stick out a thumb and saw her pull onto the shoulder he grinned with the
brilliance of a thousand suns.
“Need a lift?” she asked, feeling like that
invisible cord that she’d stretched too far had snapped back into place, and
her sorrow at being away from Clark had turned to joy.
He faked skepticism. “I don’t know. There’s
a lot of bad women out there. How do I know you’re not one of them?”
She leaned his way and winked at him. “You
don’t.”
“I’m gonna take a chance on you not being
dangerous.”
Seize
the day...
This was her chance to finally answer the
question of what would happen if she and Clark were to ever close that distance
and meet at the lips so she took it. She leaned over and pressed her lips to
his and was so relieved when he didn’t freeze up, but, instead, leaned into it.
She kept it simple, not trying to slip him the tongue, but that kiss got her
point across nicely.
“I wanted to be closer, too. So, tell me,
where’s the place you call home?”
“Smallville. A hundred fifty miles straight
ahead.”
Chloe lowered her sunglasses and pulled
back onto the road. Clark took her hand in his and they drove on.
...
Smallville.
The name didn’t do it justice at all. It
was a huge place but the many farms meant there was a lot of open space with
few people.
It was close to dark when they pulled up to
the yellow farmhouse with the red barn and the high silver grain silo. The
porch light clicked on and a woman in her mid-to-late fifties emerged from the
house. Her hair was long and red but it had as much gray in it now as not. She
was beautiful, and she hugged her son with so much love that Chloe wondered
what it would be like to be hugged, and loved, that much by her mother, who was
lost so deeply on her own mind that she wasn’t aware of anyone around her
anymore.
“Mom, this is Chloe Sullivan. We met on the
road and worked at Larsen’s Motel this week. Chloe, my mom, Martha Kent.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kent.”
“Call me Martha. It’s a pleasure to meet
you, too. Clark talked about you every night.”
“Is that roast beef?” Clark asked, clearing
his throat. Martha realized she’d given too much away but she still winked at
Chloe.
“Your favorite. Chloe, please join us.”
“Thanks, I’d love to.”
The house was absolutely precious, a
monument to hearth and home, to family and the American dream. It was made up
of cream colored walls, hardwood floors, antique decorations that liked like
they’d been handed down no less than three generations. The kitchen was cozy,
homey, and Chloe washed up at the sink while Clark and Martha got the food on
the table.
“Mom food. Man, I’ve missed it,” Clark
said, and started to reach into the oven to grab the roast with his bare hand.
“Clark!” Chloe shouted, seeing he was about
to touch the glass roasting pan and reached for him. He froze while Chloe
rushed to his side, touching his arm in concern.
“You okay? You could have seriously hurt
yourself.”
“I wasn’t thinking. Guess I’m just kind of
off from being on the road,” he said.
Chloe didn’t miss the look of worry on
Martha’s face when she ushered him to sit down at the table. “I’ll get the
roast. You two rest. You’re young but even young people get tired after a long
trip.”
“Maybe you should go on to sleep after
dinner,” Chloe suggested.
“I’m fine. That was just a really stupid
mistake,” he said quietly. “Really stupid.”
…
Dinner
was fairly quiet.
Like her son, Martha possessed a healthy dose of respect for people’s privacy.
When Clark explained that Chloe didn’t like discussing her family, Martha spoke
about their own family instead, letting Chloe off the hook but still making her
feel welcome.
“Isn’t Smallville where that meteor shower
happened like, fourteen years ago?” Chloe asked.
“The fourteenth anniversary is coming up in
a few months,” Martha said. “It happened the day we brought Clark home.”
“I was here,” Chloe said, surprising both
Clark and Martha. “I mean, I was in the area. I usually don’t like to think
about it. Mom was exposed to a bunch of those rocks and she got sick not long
after. She uh...She became catatonic. Two years later Dad died and...”
“I’m sorry,” Clark said.
He looked so stricken Chloe almost laughed.
“Chill, Clark, you’re not personally responsible for what happened to her.”
Martha kept glancing at her son, like she
knew something, and Chloe wondered what it was. “How about desert?” She asked
with a touch too much cheer, trying to pull her son from the sudden funk he’d
fallen into. “Apple pie a la mode.”
He drew in a deep breath and put a smile in
place. “Sound good.”
“After dessert I need to get into town,
find a room for a few nights,” Chloe said.
“You could stay here,” Martha said. “Clark
is a very good judge of character. He wouldn’t have brought you home if you
weren’t trustworthy.”
“You can have my room,” he offered.
“I don’t know, Clark, I couldn’t take your
room.”
“You fed me three meals a day for a week
and wouldn’t let me pay you back. At least let me give you a place to stay.”
She found the offer hard to resist. She’d
get a better feel of who Clark was and she’d save money.
“Only for two nights until I decide where I’m
going next.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed.
He led her upstairs to his room, which was clean
and tidy. She’d have thought Martha had cleaned up for him had she not seen how
neat he’d kept his room at the motel. The sheets and pillow cases were fresh
and he opened a window to let some fresh air in.
“This is definitely the bedroom of a teenage
boy. Football an obsession of yours?”
“You could say that,” he agreed. He did
have a lot of posters and his jersey hung on the wall. “I’m taking all of this
down.”
“Moving on from your glory days?”
“Yeah. I’m not in high school anymore.”
They fell into silence and she had a
feeling, as he gazed at her, that he was thinking about that kiss they’d shared
earlier and wasn’t in the mood for chitchat.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Maybe,” she said, coy.
Clark knelt in front of her and rested his
hands on the bed, either side of her. Now they were face to face with her only
slightly higher up than him.
“You’re something of a mind reader,” he
said. “According to you I’m easy to read. So tell me what I’m thinking about
right now.”
Chloe draped her arms around his shoulders.
“You’re thinking about when I kissed you.”
“Miss Sullivan, you’re three for three.”
His eyes were hooded now and those
beautiful green irises were directed at her lips.
“Does that mean I’ve scored a homerun,
Clark?”
“Second base for sure.”
He closed the space between them, forgoing
a press of the lips to slip his tongue into her mouth. She tried not to moan at
how good it felt, tried not to even breathe to hard, lest Mrs. Kent hear them.
She tangled her hands in his hair and returned the kiss. It was slow, gentle, a
caressing of tongues and pressing of lips, a mingling of breath that smelled
like ice cream and apple pie, the way a happy home smelled.
When he pulled away he left Chloe with an
ache deep in her body, and an ache deep in her soul. Her body longed for his
touch while her soul longed for his love, and she chastised herself for wanting
too much of him too soon.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Four a.m., or some insanely early hour
like that?”
“No, six a.m. sharp.”
He smoothed her hair back from her
forehead. “Sweet dreams, Chloe.”
“You too, Clark.”
…
Morning
came in clear and cool. Chloe donned a jacket that Clark loaned her until the
afternoon warmed up and joined him on the porch for a cup of coffee. She held
the mug to keep her fingers warm while she looked out over the fields. Corn had
been sewn and it would grow high before it was harvested.
“Anything you want to do today?”
“Nothing I can say out loud,” she answered,
bringing a smile to his face.
“I was thinking we could spend the evening
at Crater Lake after I work on Dad’s old truck.”
“While you do that I thought I could tour the
town, maybe look for a job.”
“This job going to last a week or maybe a
little longer?”
Definitely
longer, she
thought. The idea of leaving Clark felt absurd now.
“Remember when I said I’d know when I got
to where I’m going? Well...I’m here.”
He was kissing her again. Not as deeply as
last night but he was kissing her and squeezing her close.
“Want me to come into town with you?” he
said breathlessly.
“I should go alone. I’m afraid you and your
rosy red lips will just distract me.”
After a breakfast that didn’t taste like it
had been cooked in grease that was ten years old Chloe drove into town and
grabbed a paper. She went to a coffee shop called The Talon and sat in a corner
booth where she started marking jobs. One in particular stood out to her.
Copy editor
at the local paper.
“You’re new.”
Chloe looked up from the paper to a
stunningly attractive Chinese girl with long black hair and a cheerful smile.
“Yes, I am. I got into town last night.
Chloe.”
The girl took the hand she offered and gave
it a firm shake. “Lana Lang. Good to meet you. Are you staying long?”
She poured Chloe a refill, on the house.
“Yeah, I’m actually looking for a job and a
place of my own. A friend is putting me up for a few days but I’d like to have
my own place to hang my hat.”
“I don’t know of anything yet but if I hear
of something I can call you.”
Chloe gave Lana her number and then headed
out to buy a smart suit to throw on before heading out to apply for that job at
the local paper.
...
Prospects
looked good for that job. Chloe aced the tests and, she was sure, the interview. Now all
she had to do was wait to see if she was chosen from the pool of candidates
that had also tried for the job.
It was later than intended when she pulled
up to the Kent farm. Clark greeted her covered in dirt and grease. The only
thing lacking was sweat, which she chalked up to a high tolerance for heat,
though the evening was cooling down and he may have simply dried up. Despite
the filth, or perhaps because if it, she wanted to jump him now more than ever.
“I’ll go shower and we’ll take our dinner
up to the lake.”
“Or we can go up now and you can jump in
wearing just your undies,” she suggested with a naughty wink. He grinned slyly
at her.
“Hoping to see a little something, Chloe?”
“I’ve seen quite a bit of it already and
it’s not little,” she replied and was rewarded with his smile brightening even
more. “Don’t use all the hot water.”
“I don’t use any hot water. Good for
circulation and cuts down on the heating bill.”
“So you’re a morning person and you like cold showers? Clark, I’m
starting to think you’re some kind of freak and I don’t mean the good way.”
He winked at her. “Don’t write me off just
yet.”
She let herself enjoy the shiver that
passed through her while her imagination ran away with her as to what kind of
freak he was in the bedroom.
She didn’t have time to ponder it too much
longer. She went to the kitchen and found a picnic basket loaded with roasted
chicken and veggies, some rolls, and a few cans of her favorite soda waiting
for them to go. Martha sat in the living room doing a crossword and listening
to country music on the radio. Clark surprised her by coming downstairs after
only ten minutes. She felt bad for taking three times that long when she had
her own shower.
“Mom, we’re going up to the lake,” Clark
said.
“Okay, have fun,” she said, and then looked
her son directly in the eye and added, “and be careful.”
Chloe’s neck was still burning with
embarrassment when they got into the old truck Clark had repaired and started
out. Crater Lake turned out to be absolutely beautiful. It stretched out
further than she could see. They sat by the water, alone, now that most people
had called it a night. Clark had built a fire to dispel the chill in the air
after they’d finished eating and they lounged beneath the trees by the water
with Clark sitting behind Chloe and wrapping her in his arms. The sun was down
now and the sky above was clear and dusted with stars.
“You can’t see the stars in Metropolis,”
Chloe said, leaning against him. “Too much artificial light.”
The fire was warm at her front, Clark was
almost as warm to her back. He was so solid and strong that it was easy to
believe he could protect her but that was a false sense of security. His
muscles were no match for Lionel Luthor’s money and influence should he ever
learn her whereabouts. It wouldn’t be hard. She didn’t have fake credentials
and had to apply for jobs using her real name.
“I think you’ll really like it here in
Smallville, Chloe. You’d see starry skies at night, meet good people, have a
simple life...”
“I’d have you?”
“Definitely me.”
“Good, because you’re what I want more than
anything else.”
That kind of honesty was hard for her to
admit but the gentle squeeze from Clark told her that not only was he glad to
hear it, he returned the sentiment. She was eager to see how far her
relationship with Clark could go. She was going to stand up to Luthor when the
day inevitably came that he found her. She was willing to live broke and in a
ditch rather than go back to her luxury prison in Metropolis to marry Lex and
let them rob her of her identity until all that was left was of their creation.
The feel of Clark’s hand on her belly was
good, the way he gently ran his fingertips over her skin. Before she let him go
too far, however, she wanted to open up to him.
“Before we go any further I need to open up
to you. I need you to understand who I am.”
“Okay,” he said, still caressing her tummy.
“The guardian I told you about is Lionel
Luthor.”
His fingers stilled. “You really do come from money,” he said, trying to joke. “Are you worried that’s
all I’ll want you for? Money?”
“If it is you’ll be sorely disappointed. I
left with a few grand and that’s all I have. I became his ward when I was ten.
He raised me in Metropolis, outside of the public eye as much as possible. He’s
been...grooming...me.”
“For what?”
“To marry his son, Lex. Last year he
started coming onto me, started touching me. Two days before my eighteenth
birthday he came into my room and tried to have sex with me.”
Clark was shaking and Chloe knew it had
nothing to do with the cold. “Tried to or forced you?” he asked.
“Tried to. I got away but Lionel made it
clear he wanted me to live up to my “responsibilities” with regards to my
relationship with Lex. He wasn’t going to stop his son so I took what little
bit of cash I had saved and hit the road in my cousin Lois’s car. He’s going to
find me someday, Clark, if he doesn’t already know where I am. He’ll try to force
me back by intimidating everyone I try to get a job with. No school will take
me.”
“Mom and I will take you in,” Clark said,
his voice fierce.
“Clark, you don’t know Lionel. If you and
Martha try to come between him and what he wants he’ll destroy you financially.
I can’t do that to you. I can’t do it to Martha.”
Clark was silent for a long time before he
said. “We’ll talk to Mom in the morning, see what she says. In the meantime I
need to share something with you, too. I’m different from other guys our age. I
want to come here with you, make love to you, but I can’t. It’s only fair that
you know we can’t have a normal sex life.”
“You’re impotent?”
“No...I just can’t risk it.”
“An STD?”
He chuckled and sniffed her hair. “No. I
can’t go into it, not yet. Let’s just say I might lose control and hurt you. I’m
not bragging about my virility, either. It’s a real danger. That’s why I can’t.”
She turned just enough to face him and
stroked his face with a gentle touch. “Does it have something to do with the
meteor shower?”
“Yeah.”
Chloe didn’t know everything about Clark
but she wanted to, and she wanted to do it on his terms rather than push so
hard he walked away. She nodded and was content to rest against him, wrapped in
his warm, strong embrace. A guy’s manhood was a touchy subject and she knew
that it could be heavily tied to his self esteem.
“Share what you’re ready to share when you’re
ready. I’m not gonna push. I just want to be close to you, Clark.”
“We can’t have sex but there’s other things
we can do,” he said, and pressed his lips to hers. “Let show you...I can still
please you.”
His tongue slipping into her mouth was
almost enough to distract her from his nimble fingers unbuttoning her jeans. He
leaned back against the tree, giving her room to recline a little more. The
kiss was deep, slow, tongues caressing and breath mingling as they tasted one
another.
The kiss drew to a close when Clark began
to massage her center, rubbing her with slow strokes that were almost torture.
She looked up at him as his hand continued moving.
This is what running had led her to: a
pristine lake under the moonlight and a hitchhiker’s hand down her panties.
Chloe couldn’t believe she’d ever
contemplated walking away from this beautiful boy. What if her tire hadn’t gone
flat? She would have kept going and wouldn’t have spent a week as a maid to his
handyman, eating snacks and watching movies and swimming in ponds and falling
in love.
She let a moan escape her. The few fumbles
she’d had in her life had been enjoyable but even her best orgasms couldn’t
compare to the ripples of need building inside of her now. Clark’s fingers
moved with ease through her slick folds, seemingly too big to be so graceful.
He gently tugged at her lips, making her wetter, building the ache inside.
She needed more. She needed him inside but
she refused to rush the moment. She leaned into him, her head falling back
until she had a view of the stars. Not that she really saw them. All she could
do was concentrate on how his fingertips circled her clit, slow but with ever
increasing speed.
“Clark, please...”
She reached down and encouraged him to
penetrate her. If she couldn’t have his cock inside her she would settle for
his thick, long, fingers.
He was so slick with her juices that he
slid easily inside her wet warmth, his teeth grazing her ear lightly and
drawing a long, low moan as he pushes further inside, going deeper before
holding still. The stillness of his finger as his thumb continues pressing her
clit drives her crazy and she lifts her hips, a silent plea for him to move, to
drive her over the edge.
His free hand lifts her shirt and she knows
what he needs. She pulled the shirt up, along with her bra, exposing her tits
which were tipped with hardened nipples.
“Fuck, Chloe,” he sighed, and began to
move, starting off slow as he feels her juices dribbling over his finger.
Clark set up a steady rhythm, moving in
deep, pulling out and moving in again as he presses his lips to her neck. Chloe
can feel him hardening against her back. That’s what she really wants but she
knows he’s not ready, or able right now, to share himself with her so
completely. He was right when he said he could still please her. He’s pleasing
her now, making her wetter than she’s ever been in her life, arousing a kind of
pleasurable pressure inside her on a scale she’s never felt before.
The pressure doubled when he slipped his
index finger inside and curved them just right, rubbing that spot that he knew
he’d found when she gasped and bit her bottom lip almost hard enough to draw
blood. Her fingers dug into his steel hard legs, one on either side of her, as
the sweat beaded not only on her skin but on his. She dared a glance up at
Clark, saw his fringe was moist and clinging to his sweat-glistened forehead.
Clark, his face bathed in firelight, was like an angel fallen from the heavens,
and she pulled his head down for another deep kiss.
“Come here,” he said, pulling away and
withdrawing from her dripping depths.
He turned her, lifting her as though she
weighed nothing, and she straddled his lap while he pushed her jeans down even
further. He kissed her lightly but held eye contact when his fingers found her
again. One hand rubbed her ass, cupping her and squeezing her, pulling her
against his hard length which twitched inside his jeans made tight by his
arousal. She grinded against him while he resumed fingering her, going deeper
this time than he had before, putting pressure in her cunt with each thrust.
Chloe was moaning now, feeling her release
near. His fingers sped up, moving with speed she’d never imagined was humanly possible.
She was so sensitive that it was like he was vibrating inside of her.
“Clark…” she moaned, still grinding her
clit hard against his jeans which were sopping wet with her juices.
He drew his tongue up the length of her
neck, licking her sweat before kissing her neck, grazing her with his teeth.
She came explosively, her eyes locked on his, her pussy clenching around his
fingers tightly as the ripples of her orgasm rolled through her body. When it
was over she collapsed in his powerful embrace, spent, satiated.
…
The shower was warm and Chloe hated washing
Clark’s scent from her skin but she needed to get clean. It was past midnight
when they got home but she doubted Mrs. Kent would care. It was a Friday night,
after all, and they were young and in love.
She came downstairs and found Clark laid
out on the couch, his big feet pointing toward her, clad in blue socks. She
didn’t need to ask to join him. He simply held out his arms and she moved to
him, coming to rest on his chest.
“Can you sleep like this, with me on top of
you?”
“Sure. I’ll carry you upstairs after you’ve
fallen asleep.”
“If I find a way to stay here I’ll have my
own place. You won’t have to leave. You can stay some nights with me. Not sure
how your mom will feel about it.”
“She’s old fashioned but she’s not a prude.
She’ll understand. She’ll just…have to…I guess.”
He kissed her forehead and Chloe listened
to Clark’s heart thudding solidly under her hear. She wanted to say the words
already, those big three words, but she feared she was pushing for too much too
soon. She contented herself with feeling the satisfaction in her body, how
relaxed she felt after the most intense orgasm of her life, and her eyelids
grew heavy. Moments later she was sound asleep.
…
She came downstairs the next morning,
unaware of Clark having put her in his bed. The house smelled of coffee, her
favorite scent, and she poured a cup while Martha and Clark sat talking at the
kitchen table where cream of wheat and toast was ready.
“Clark told me about your situation with
Lionel Luthor,” Martha said, touching her hand. “I’m so sorry, Honey.”
“I’ll be okay,” she said. “I’ll just hit
the road again and--”
Martha smiled and shook her head. “No, you
don’t understand. I’m not kicking you out. I’m just sorry he’s made such a mess
of your life, taking you in not out of kindness and love but instead to use you
like he must use everyone in his life. That kind of man is dangerous but our
doors are always open. You have a place here, Chloe. You don’t need to run
anywhere. Clark and I will do whatever we can to help you.”
Chloe had never had such a kind woman in
her life. Lionel had kept her isolated, had tried to brainwash her into
becoming what he wanted her to be, and never allowed her to know the kindness
of someone like Martha Kent.
“I won’t stay if he starts meddling in your
lives. I can’t do that to you.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to
it. For now keep looking for work and don’t worry about where you’ll stay,”
Martha said.
An hour or so later she and Clark were sitting
in the living room watching old game show reruns on TV.
“Clark, do you think I have what it takes
to be out here, to make it on my own, to stand up against people like Lionel
and Lex Luthor?”
“Yes. I have no doubt,” he said, kissing
her softly on her temple. He slid a hand up and under her shirt and rested his
warm palm against her belly. “You’re not alone. Even if they find you--”
“When they find me,” she corrected.”
“Even when
they find you Mom and I are going to stick by you. Don’t be afraid, Chloe.
You’re free of them. You’re now your own woman. Nobody’s gonna take that from
you, I promise.”
He said that now but Chloe wondered how
long even good people like the Kents could withstand pressure from a man like
Lionel Luthor before they caved. She wouldn’t blame them when that moment
inevitably came but for now she was going to live the life she wanted. She was
going to live it with Clark.
When the time came, and she knew it would, she
may find she’d have to hit the road again if for nothing else than to take heat
off of Clark and Martha. She’d make her own way. After all, Lionel Luthor had
given her one thing he could never take away: a drive to succeed. She was a
survivor, a fighter, stubborn as hell, and she’d sink or swim on her own.
Something told her, though, as she leaned
against Clark and felt him gently stroking her tummy, she’d turn out to be a
very good swimmer.
