MILE HIGH

Clark let the magazine fall limply to his lap, aware that he'd been staring blankly at the same paragraph for twenty minutes and still had no clearer idea of what it said now than he'd had when he'd first begun.

He barely held in a sigh as he looked out of the small, oval window to his left and down on the scrolling panorama of colors far below him. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue - racing blue, eggshell blue, soaring through the air without a care in the world (and maybe taking your best girl with you) blue - and he gazed at it longingly as he shifted uncomfortably in the narrow Access American Airlines seat.

"Thirty five," his wife murmured from the seat next to him, not looking up from her own magazine as she flipped a page.

He let the sigh escape him. "That's a gross exaggeration, Lois."

Lois gave him a sideways glance. "Thirty six."

"You provoked that one," he said. "So it doesn't count. And neither does the last one either, because I held it back."

"Strange. *I* still heard it."

"Anyway, I have *not* sighed thirty six times since we lifted out of Paris."

"You're right." Lois nodded. "I think I missed a couple over the Atlantic," she added dryly, earning herself a dark look from the handsome man at her side. He sighed again, shot her a glance that dared her to comment (she didn't) and then, somewhat petulantly, smoothed out the glossy pages of the magazine which had crumpled in his grip.

He made another valiant stab at reading the article he'd started. "Where do they *get* the people who write these things?" he mumbled grumpily. "You'd think they could drum up at least five half decent writers to entertain their passengers. I mean, really, there's only so much you want to know about the development of the world's smallest digital cable receiver and how to fit it into your ear without giving yourself a hemorrhage."

Lois raised a brow as she slowly licked the tip of one finger and then used it to turn a page. "This from the world's only living storage facility for useless trivia?" she queried.

Clark had followed the progress of her finger as though hypnotized by its brief entry into her mouth and its slick withdrawal. He seemed to shake himself briefly and then grunted. "I only store *interesting* useless trivia," he countered.

"Why don't you read the Planet again?" Lois suggested absently. "Remind yourself how we nailed that creep, Chequin, to the wall. That was fun."

"Well, yeah, it was. But, once you've read it four times, it kinda tends to lose its exciting edge," he grumbled.

Lois finally gave him her undivided attention. She looked at his disgruntled face and hid a smile. She knew how much he hated commercial flying and that he was still just a little piqued by the fact that her arguments against visiting his parents via Superman Express had been so logical he'd had no choice to agree with her. Logical it might have been, but clearly that didn't mean he had to like it any. And the fact that he hadn't been able to muster up a decent argument against her wasn't going to make it any better either.

When Perry had sent his best reporting team to Paris to cover a whispered scandal in the upcoming Fashion Week '95 Extravaganza, Lois had been more than just a tad suspicious. It had not been their type of story for one thing.

"Fashion Week?!" she'd blurted, leaping to her feet and eyeing the Editor ferociously.

"Now, Lois, it's an important assignment - "

"That's of interest only to half dozen Miami Beach Babes with less brains than a marmoset and a few Rhode Island poodles!" Lois raged. "Why do you think they bury the Fashion Section on page sixty four each week!" She glanced down at the sheaf of papers in her hand and waved them vigorously, all but shaking them in his face. "I mean who cares if this.........Riccardo Chequin is buying in silk in bulk from India and labeling it as Japanese?"

"That's China, honey," Perry corrected equably. "And its important to the Indian High Commission, the Indian Department of Industry, the Indian Customs Office, five million Indian laborers who work in the cloth industry -- "

"All right, all right, I get the point. But, why can't Louisa do it?" she changed tack in typical Lois fashion. Lose one battle, attack the second flank. "She's Fashion Editor, Perry. She gets paid for covering Fashion Week!"

"She is covering Fashion Week. *You're* covering scandal and corruption in Indian trade route violations."

Lois narrowed her eyes.

"Anything else?" Perry asked.

She leant across the desk until she was almost nose to nose with the man. "This is because you found out Clark and I spent our honeymoon in his apartment, isn't it?" she growled the accusation. "I *told* you, it had nothing to do with being able to afford the trip. We *wanted* - "

"Lois," Perry's tone took on the familiar Southern woodsmoke and honey, 'don't mess with me' drawl that sent warning tingles down most reporters' spines. "Now, you wouldn't be suggesting that I arrange my assignments around the personal lives of my reporters, would you?"

Lois considered. She straightened, tugging at the edge of her jacket and pushing back determined shoulders as she reconsidered her position. "No," she said, in a tone that clearly meant the opposite.

Perry chose to ignore the inflection. "Well, good. Now, skeedaddle. Go find that husband of yours and pack. Oh, and Lois?" he added as she turned sharply on one heel and stalked out of his office, muttering beneath her breath. "You an' Clark manage to clear this one up quicker than I figured you would, why don't you all take some time out? Have a little fun. I hear EuroDisney's got cheap rates this time of year. I booked you two an open ticket, so there's no need to rush back."

"Perry - "

"Have a good trip, honey."

There had been no further arguing with the man to Lois' dismay. But the trip had paid off when they had accidentally stumbled over more than simple trade route violations. Chequin's silk supplies weren't only not coming from the fashionable and in chic Silk Houses of China, they were coming from a sweatshop factory in Bombay, the conditions of which were a scandal like to ruin the man entirely. And good riddance, Lois thought now, remembering with tightening lips the smuggled out pictures Clark had obtained - with a little help from a midnight flight undertaken by a certain, helpful superhero. Children as young as four had been working in the filthy, dangerous conditions. Some of them with damaged limbs and fingers that had been caught in the looms. Children that were being paid a pittance by Chequin's shell company for silk that sold for thousands of dollars in the sleazy little mountebank's Fashion Houses in Milan and Paris.

Thanks to Superman and a little good, old fashioned investigative sleuthing, the whole sorry expose had appeared on the Planet's front page in double quick time. Chequin had been arrested, his businesses were under investigation, his factories closed, the Superman Foundation had set up a trust to safely and usefully employ his redundant workers at a fair and above market rate of pay in their own co-operative and Lois and Clark were left with orders from Perry to make the most of the rest of the week.

He would have been surprised to hear that far from enjoying the nightlife and romantic atmosphere of Paris, Lois had taken only a few moments after slamming down the phone to suggest to Clark that they book a detour flight to Kansas and visit his parents instead. It would be the first visit they had made to the farm in just over eight weeks of marriage. What with their self-imposed exile during their honeymoon and the frenetic pace at the Planet in the following weeks, there had been no chance to make even a 'flying' visit and she knew how much he wanted to see them. She did too.

Once she'd persuaded him that it was really something she wanted to do ('Yes, *really*, Clark! Now, go phone the airline before I change my mind and decide I really want to visit Minnie and Goofy instead!') and that she wasn't secretly pining to spend the next three days walking the banks of the Seine or visiting some pavement cafes ('Ugh! Tourist fodder, Clark! You know I *hate* doing the expected!') he had been eager to get going as soon as possible.

But, of course, Superman had to be out of the equation. They couldn't just vanish from their Paris hotel and reappear in Kansas. Especially not with Louisa Harkas making the journey partway with them before they caught their connecting flight. Not to mention the ton of luggage they had to take with them ('And don't tell me again we were only going for a week, Clark. I needed every single one of those dresses.'). So, a seat in First Class, Triple A it had been and her adorable, handsome and normally angelic-tempered husband had been making the worst of it ever since they'd taken off from Charles de Gaulle airport eight hours ago.

Now she watched him scowl out of the window again and smiled, somewhat slyly. "You want excitement? Here." She handed him her magazine with a flourish. "Maybe you just aren't reading the right articles," she confided, laying a hand on top of his where it rested on the dividing arm between their seats. She leant against his arm, laying her cheek to his sleeve as he took the offering from her, skeptically.

Clark glanced at the page in passing, opened his mouth to give it the ridicule it undoubtedly deserved and then jerked his gaze back, his eyes turning round as the headline registered.

HIGH FLYING ECSTASY: SIXTY SIZZLING MOMENTS FROM CINNAMON CANDY'S MILE HIGH MEMOIRS!

Half of the page beneath was taken up with a glossy glamour shot of a surely medically enhanced redhead, who was showing her expensive assets to their best advantage over the low-scooped neckline of her bright crimson mini-dress as she leant into camera range. Her eyes, as glazed as the cherry-red lipstick glossing her lips though slightly less bright, gazed out of the eye of the lens with a baby-doll innocence.

Clark considered her dubiously. Some men might have found her artificial, in your face, sexuality appealing, he supposed, but he had always found that that particular sort of put together sex appeal left him rather cold. Despite his earlier ill-humor a faint smile twitched at his lips. Especially when a guy had dynamite sexuality seated right next to him, all of it wrapped up tight in a sizzling package and that without the barest hint of a tax-deductible cosmetic enhancement in sight. Certainly, having had a taste of the real thing during the past eight weeks of wedded bliss, Cinnamon was doing nothing for *him*.

The same couldn't be said for the article beneath the picture. He scanned it in a fraction of an instant.........and the other four pages which followed it. His eyebrows rose steadily into his hairline with each word until they were in danger of disappearing all together. Beneath the fingers which were slowly tracing small, intimate circles against the back of his hand and wrist, Lois felt her husband's pulse rate rise markedly. She smiled lazily and reached over with one long finger, placing it on a point halfway down the page.

"*That's* interesting. Don't you think?"

"I would -- " Clark paused as his words emerged as a strained whistle of breath and cleared his throat to try again. "I would if it were humanly possible," he ventured incredulously. He finished reading to the page end. "Isn't.........isn't this a little racy for your standard airline fare?" he said, turning the magazine in his hands to view its cover.

As he did so, something heavy and weighted slipped from its center and dropped in a heap at his feet from where it had been tucked into the innocuous airline entertainment guide. He bent to retrieve it and found himself holding the latest edition of a decidedly salacious woman's magazine. One that he remembered launching, with a series of raunchy TV promos featuring the delectable Cinnamon Candy, only a couple of weeks before. He recalled that its Editor, when interviewed, had declared that she was intent on giving FHM a run for its money and liberating the long suppressed and tortured libidos of the modern, American woman. She had made it sound like a crusade.

He also recalled - quite distinctly now - that Lois had come up behind him as he'd sat on their sofa watching the TV, draped her arms around his neck and nuzzled at his ear as she'd denounced that as all just so much post-feminist hogwash. There was nothing tortured *or* suppressed about *her* libido. He felt the heat in him deepen to a familiar tingle way down in his groin as he remembered how she'd proved her point to both their satisfactions shortly thereafter.

"Where did you -- ?"

She cut him off at the pass by leaning forward and patting a teasing hand against his cheek. "Small tip from a frequent flyer, Farmboy," she whispered against his ear. "Always bring along your own in-flight entertainment."

He grinned back at her as his eyes took a moment to flicker appreciatively over her slim figure. She was wearing a sharp, all-business suit in powder blue that had always been a special favorite of his. It's skirt nudged up just shy of her knees and the jacket was tailored to fit her curves in simple, classic lines. Beneath it, she wore a contrasting silk camisole top in royal blue, its straight boxed neckline edged with a filigree lace trim. It set off the honey glow of her skin and the darkness of her hair and eyes to perfection. But then everything about her was perfection.

Clark leant forward with a smile to place a hand on one exposed knee, flexing his fingers against its warmth in a soft caress. He reached out to cup her chin in one, large hand. "I thought I already had," he murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Her lips parted invitingly under his. His touch shifted, his hand cradling her cheek as the kiss deepened slightly. She sighed softly into his mouth as he felt her lips move delicately and seductively beneath the faint pressure of his own. She tasted of coffee and fresh orange from their meal earlier, with just a hint of peppermint. He broke the kiss and planted another on her cheekbone before gathering her gently to him and settling her against his chest, pushing a hand into the soft mass of her hair.

A mixture of scents rose enticingly from her skin as he nuzzled at her ear, tasting the tincture of rose from the complimentary gel sachet she'd used in her shower that morning, back at their hotel. The more subtle wildrose and peach of the powder she'd applied afterwards. He could trace the course of her ablutions with each new scent: the strong tang of moisturizing creams and lipstick and the warm sandalwood of her perfume. Beneath them all, her own, unique scent was spice and fire. Clark smiled against the silk of her skin and let his lips trail along her neck and throat, hearing her moan gently as he took brief possession of her lips again before moving on to plant a succession of light, open-mouthed caresses across the line of her jaw on the other side of her face.........

.........and paused as his eyes met the bright blue and curious gaze that the tiny blonde in the seat across the aisle was bestowing on him. Her eyes didn't blink as she rolled the lollipop bulging in one cheek slowly and thoughtfully to the other. Her five year old rosebud mouth pursed consideringly, the thin stalk jutting from between her lips wobbling alarmingly for a moment with the motion.

Clark cleared his throat and eased himself away from Lois, his pursed lips slipping into a slight grimace. He adjusted the knot in his tie and sat up straighter in his seat. A quick glance at the blonde showed she'd lost interest and immersed herself in the Batman comic she was holding on her lap. Her legs swung idly after a moment, her sneakered heels bumping at the seat beneath her in that irritating rhythm that kids just seemed to find naturally.

Lois was watching him curiously and he gave her a wry smile as he leant forward again to touch his lips to hers, briefly. "Much as I'd love to explore........." his eyes slid a path down beneath the neck of her camisole and lingered on the deeply shadowed valley below before he lifted them with a grin to meet her amused brown gaze, "......this further, we have company."

"Hmmm. Yes. Darn it," Lois said, leaning on folded arms against the rest between them and stretching across him, apparently to catch a view out of the tiny window. The move brought her up close against him, of course. He could feel the soft swell of her breasts press against his arm and his heart began a quick race against the wall of his chest. Searching desperately for a distraction, his eyes fell on the magazine still in his lap.

"I thought you said you'd rather have Ralph win you in a Bachelorette auction than buy a copy of this thing?" he reminded her.

"Well I wouldn't have, but it caught my eye in the airport shop just before we boarded," she said, unfazed by his smug smile as she gazed out of the window.

Clark chuckled. "Do I sense some post-feminist principles taking a nose-dive?" he suggested.

"No, you sense your wife having a normal, healthy interest in why her husband's plastered over the front of GOOD TIME GIRL magazine wearing nothing but a banner headline proclaiming he bares all inside. Page twenty-two," Lois murmured, leaning slightly closer as she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial hiss.

"What?!" Clark all but yelled. He turned the magazine hastily in his hands. Lois had never actually seen anyone's jaw drop before but she was definitely seeing it now. Sure enough, Clark found to his dismay, Superman stood in full superhero glory on the front page of GTGM's second issue, strategically wearing the iniquitous banner as Lois had said, a stern expression and not much else. He hurriedly flipped to page twenty-two. And blanched. "That-that's -- "

"Fake?" Lois laughed, nudging him wickedly. "Well, sure it is, sweetheart! I didn't think you posed for it."

"But-but they can't *do* this! It's - "

"Oh, lighten up, Clark. It's just a piece of light-hearted fun, that's all."

"Lois, do you *know* how many women read this magazine each month?!"

"Yes, but they don't take it seriously. Come on, honey, you don't think anyone thinks that kind of thing is real, do you? We're much too smart for that. Everyone *knows* it's fake. No one takes it seriously. That's part of the fun."

In the months to come, Clark would have cause to remind Lois of this naivete, but for now he just groaned as he caught the sidebar article down at the bottom of the page. Where, in a little box all of its own, GTGM had commissioned six nationally renowned artists to let their imaginations roam and give their own representation of what Superman *might* be hiding under that suit, if he *wasn't* as human as 'we've all dreamed he is, girls!!'. Appalled, Clark had to admit that their imaginations were certainly fertile.

"Catherine Merton," he all but wailed. "She's a *cartoonist* for pity's sake! She works on the Post!" He looked up at his wife with wide eyes. "She's on the Allocations Committee for that Housing Project the Superman Foundation commissioned. I'm never going to be able to look her in the face next time Superman attends a Planning Meeting!"

"Well, don't worry," Lois said, patting him soothingly against one arm. "By the looks of what she's got on her mind she won't be looking at *your* face either."

"Lo-is!" He flopped back against the headrest of his seat, closing his eyes and looking like a man suddenly coming face to face with his own worst nightmare.

Lois studied him for a moment, amused. Then, she tapped him on the chest with one long finger. "Come on," she said, eyes sparkling. "What *you* need is a diversion."

Clark opened his eyes and looked at her. "To a hotel where we can 'lay over' until the storm clears?" he suggested, eyes twinkling back at her. His hand covered hers, settling their entwined grasp to lay against his heart and letting her feel the steady beat beneath her fingers.

Lois tilted her head to one side, as though considering. She shook her head. "Unlikely," she judged, taking a look at the cloudless blue sky. Her smile turned decidedly wicked. "But, I'm sure we can do better than that."

"We can?" Clark said, suspiciously.

"Mmmm-hmmmm." She reached for the magazine folded on his lap. Her hand stroked a firm path across the front of his pants as she did so: a move which could have been accidental but undoubtedly wasn't if he knew his wife. His theory was borne out a moment later as she quite firmly and deliberately squeezed at the bulge that had grown beneath the suddenly restrictive material in response to her lightly questing touch. Clark clenched a groan behind his teeth as those teasing fingers walked a slow, meandering path across the hardening ridge of his arousal and then left him with one, last lingering promise as she gave him a final, firm stroke and withdrew her hand.

Lois scrunched the unlucky magazine into the handy pouch on the back of the seat in front of her and then twisted in her seat, stretching her neck to view the aisle behind her. Seeing it was clear, she got to her feet and eased her way out into the narrow space with a wriggle of her hips. Once in the aisle, she clicked an exasperated tongue between her teeth and bent from the waist to fiddle at one shoe, affording her husband a suddenly intriguing view of her pertly rounded bottom, encased in the tight sheath of her skirt, the thick material stretching taut across firmly muscled buttocks. Clark's breath caught and he swallowed hard, hearing his throat click against the sudden dryness that was seizing it tight. His fingers twitched on the arm-rest and he felt the plastic begin to dent beneath their convulsive grip.

Lois straightened, turning back to him. Her cheeks were flushed with the high color of excitement and her eyes danced as she gave him an entirely guileless smile. "Sorry, thought my lace had come undone."

"You......you're wearing pumps," Clark pointed out faintly. "You don't have laces."

She shrugged. "Whoops, silly me. I forgot. Coming?" She held out a hand.

He started. "Huh?"

She chuckled and a dull flush spread across his cheeks. "Down, boy," Lois said as he took hold of her offered hand sheepishly and let her pull him into the aisle beside her. "Come on," she said. "Let's go join the Club."

"Club?"

She flashed him a sultry look from beneath her lashes and leant forward to press her palms against his chest. "Claa-rrk? How high up are we right now?" she asked seemingly incongruously in a breathy, little girl voice.

"Right now?" He considered for a second, bemused. "Six hundred thousand and three hundred and forty eight feet AGL. Why?"

"Good. That's *much* higher than a mile then, isn't it?" she said happily, ignoring the question. She winked, patted him against one cheek and then turned to set off briskly for the end of the aisle, leaving him to follow, knowing he would.

Clark stood where she'd left him, taking a moment or two to run that conversation by him again as he watched the sashaying retreat of her hips. His mind flew to the steamy revelations in Candy's magazine memoirs and his eyes widened a notch as he began to get an idea of what his irrepressible wife was planning. A soft clearing of a throat directly behind him alerted him suddenly to the fact that he was standing in the middle of the aisle wearing a slightly foolish grin. And blocking the way.

"Sir?"

"Oh! Um, sorry," he apologized to the stewardess. "I was just - " he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and she offered him a sweetly professional smile. "On your right, sir. Just to the left of the storage lockers. You can't miss it."

"Um, yeah. Right. Uh, I mean, thanks," he nodded and beat a hasty retreat after his wife. Pushing through the curtain, he found the narrow galley ahead of him empty. He sidestepped to let the stewardess push the drinks trolley through into the next section, fisting his hands casually into his pockets and giving her a friendly smile as she went by. She glanced suspiciously at his hovering figure and then left him to it as she tugged the Club Class curtain into place behind her.

Clark waited a moment for her to get out of hearing range before he glanced around him. "Lois?" he hissed, peering into the nearby galley kitchen. It was empty. He frowned. He glanced cautiously behind him, reached to ease his glasses down his nose and then a small hand snuck out from the doorway behind him, gripped his sleeve tight and yanked him unceremoniously backwards. He sensed her just before she grabbed him, her scent rising around him and his senses filled with her racing heartbeat and quick, excited breaths, but it didn't give him much warning before she had him crowded into the tiny square that was the airplane restroom.

Clark looked around him doubtfully as she squeezed up against him, backing him up against the stainless steel sink and then turning herself awkwardly in the confining space to shut the door and ease its bolt into place. He lifted a brow at her as she repeated the maneuver in reverse, enabling her to face him again.

"Um, Lois, I think - "

He got no further as she launched herself against his chest, plunging her hands into his hair as her mouth sealed itself to his in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. She rubbed the soft curves of her body temptingly against his and he felt the edge of the sink digging into the small of his back. It didn't hurt him any, but it did make it difficult to respond to her attack on him as recklessly as he wanted to.

"Lois - " he managed to pant out after a moment as she tore her mouth from his and began to devour every inch of his face she could find with her lips, "I don't.........think........this is.........going........to --- "

"Yes," Lois breathed, her hands fumbling desperately at the buttons of his shirt as her hands pressed his head closer, and her tongue began a probing exploration of his left ear. "Yes.........yes, it'll be just -- ohhh........."

"Lois.........? Honey........? Could you.........just.........Lois," he groaned, taking hold of her throat in firm hands, fingers splayed against her skin and his thumbs hooking beneath her jaw to tilt up her chin so that he could savage her mouth with his own. His tongue plunged into the heated depths to taste the hollows and smooth, slick surfaces within, tangling briefly with her tongue before he took the tip between his teeth, sucking fiercely.

Then he dragged himself clear, drawing in a deep, shaking breath and opening his eyes to push her gently but relentlessly back until she was held against the door by the light but immobilizing pressure of his hands on his shoulders. With the inch or two of clear space between them enabling him to think more clearly, undistracted by the clamoring of his own body and the obvious distractions of hers, he took a moment to let his breath ease to somewhere approaching a point where he might actually be able to speak.

The distance didn't seem anything like enough though. She was staring up at him, eyes glassy with desire and longing, her lips kiss-reddened and swollen, almost making him forget his resolve and enticing him to simply surrender to the frantic cheerleading of his traitorous body, which was berating him for an idiot and urging him to just go with the flow. This was no time for thinking, dammit, it told him. Couldn't he see the woman wanted him? His gaze drifted to where her breasts were rising and falling urgently beneath the shimmer of the silk camisole. He could hear the furious beat of her heart drumming beneath, see the liquid heat pulsing in the line of her throat........

He stifled a groan and let himself fall forward to press his forehead against hers. "Honey, trust me. This isn't going to work," he managed to croak through the harsh panting rising in his chest.

"No..........um, I mean....sure........sure we......it.....can......." Lois murmured in a distracted manner, slipping her arms around his waist and immediately melting even Super-determination as her hands caressed their way firmly down to fondle and knead at the tightly muscled buttocks beneath his pants. His hands slid down along her sides, easing their way across the flaring curves of her hips to return the favor, pressing her tight against him as he rested his chin against her hair. Her breath tickled at the base of his throat and he closed his eyes as her tongue flicked out to lap at the dip between the muscled tracts and then darted its tip along the line of straining tendons. He could feel her triumphant smile against the trembling muscles of his neck as they clenched beneath her caressing lips.

"Honey," he tried again. "I can't.........you know. I don't have room."

"Superman can help out," she whispered, shifting restlessly in his grip and provoking a low moan from him as the motion rubbed the soft mound of her sex against the corresponding hot pulse of need between his legs.

He glanced upwards. The ceiling was only an inch of so shy of his head. Superman wasn't going to have any more room to maneuver here than plain old Clark Kent did. "Sweetheart," he sighed. "You have no idea how much I'd like him to right now, but - "

His wife's softly disappointed breath against his skin sent a tingle skittering all the way down his spine and directly into his groin. "You're right," she admitted, ducking her head into the shelter beneath his chin and then shifting to draw her cheek regretfully against his as she repeated, more firmly, trying to convince herself, "You're right." She sighed again. "It's just too tight."

Clark raised a brow. Talk about an understatement!

Lois laid her cheek against his shoulder, her hands playing with his tie as her eyes traced its bright geometric pattern. "Of course, you know this is all your fault," she accused, letting her gaze wander over the broad set of his shoulders, brushing wall to wall in the confined space. "You're just too darned big!"

Clark looked affronted for a moment and then he chuckled. "Really." He shifted himself closer against her, curling his fingers around her upper arms and pulling her upright against him as she raised her head. He grinned into her startled eyes, his mouth poised close enough to hers that she could feel the heat of his lips. "You've never complained before," he murmured before closing the distance between them to catch a brief, sweet kiss.

Lois rolled her eyes and then slapped a playful hand against his chest as she laughed. "That's not what I meant, you idiot."

"Wasn't it?" He nuzzled his way along her cheek.

Her eyes glinted with fresh laughter as she pushed him back. "Come on," she said, wriggling around to snick free the bolt on the lavatory door. Clark hitched in a soft hissing breath, closing his eyes as the move pushed her bottom back to nudge against the hard ridge of his erection. Idiot was right, he groaned inwardly. What had he been thinking of? He reached out a hand to tug her back as she awkwardly eased her way around the door, fully intent on reversing course and persuading her that narrow spaces had a lot going for them, despite his previous attempt to insist otherwise. But Lois apparently had other ideas as she reached back to grasp his hand tight in hers and pulled him after her into the square galley with a giggle.

Tugging him with her, unresisting, she darted across the empty galley in an exaggerated stealth maneuver more suited to sneaking up on a cabin her source had hotly tipped to be the hiding place of Metropolis' latest criminal mastermind than wandering around a commercial airliner. Reaching her goal, unmolested (unsurprisingly) by karate kicking villains or gun-wielding bank robbers, she leant against the Club Class cabin wall and twitched the heavy curtain aside to peek warily around its edge.

Clark watched her, amused, as he leant casually up against the wall beside her and folded his arms across his chest. "Lois, this is an airplane. Remember? It's not a terrorist training camp in Boga Natash."

"Ssshhh!" she hissed, reaching back without breaking her surveillance of the cabin to clap a hand across his mouth. "They'll hear you!"

"Who'll hear me?" he whispered, removing her fingers and immediately berating himself for whispering at all.

"Whoever's listening."

"Oh."

She seemed to have forgotten that he could scan the entire plane in a fraction of an instant. He opened his mouth to remind her and then closed it again with a grin as he caught the rosy bloom of excitement on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. She was having so much fun. Who was he to spoil it? He scanned the immediate area on his own anyway and confirmed that there was no one heading their way. He leant back against the wall, pushing his hands casually into his pockets while he waited on her to catch up. Bored after a moment, he began to calculate how long it would take until their flight landed in Kansas City. The heat in his groin hadn't diminished any and he wondered if his parents would think it odd if he insisted on taking Lois for a walk down along the banks of the stream as soon as they reached the farm. No, Mom, we had dinner on the plane, thanks all the same, so we're not really hungry right now. And, Dad? Would you mind just taking our bags up to our room, because I really can't spare the time right now to do it myself. Yeah, right, he thought morosely. That sounds perfectly normal. He sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

He had begun doggedly to recite the Gettysburg Address in his head, switched halfway through to conjuring up a mental list of all chemical compounds present in the known universe.......in strict alphabetical order and in recessive atomic weight..........when Lois straightened abruptly, pulled him around by one hand and hissed, "All clear. Let's go!"

"Go?" he said, startled. "Go where?"

"Somewhere we can.........get cozy, of course. Where else?"

"But - I thought we were going back to our seats?"

"Clark, we can't get cozy in our seats now can we?"

The logic in that silenced him for a moment as she let go his hand and dropped back into stealth mode to scope out First Class in a similar fashion as she'd used to survey Club.

"So, where are we going then?" he asked finally.

"See that door opposite the kitchen?"

He looked back across the galley. "Yeah."

"Behind that is the stairwell down into the cargo hold."

"They always lock the door to the cargo hold when the plane's in flight," Clark reminded her, bemused. "For security reasons. Remember?" His eyes widened a touch. "You're not thinking of getting Superman to pick the lock, are you?"

"Don't be silly. Anyway, it's not a lock it's a steel mounted bar. You'd have to break the thing apart to get in."

"Right," Clark agreed, relieved. He frowned. "So, where - ?"

"It's a stairwell, isn't it? Enclosed?" She turned her head briefly and waggled her eyebrows at him, before returning to her survey.

"The - the stairwell?" Clark blurted. "You want us to............in the *stairwell*? Honey, we can't do that! What if - " His eyes widened slightly as he thought of something. "They'll be starting to prepare the meals soon! The kitchen's right next door. What if they.........hear us?"

"Oh, fiddlesticks!" Lois snorted rudely. "Dinner's not going to be served for another hour and a half. They're just starting the movie in there."

"They are? What's the movie?" he said, craning his neck to peer across her shoulder and she slapped the back of an admonishing hand against his chest.

"I'm serious," he lied and then added, tentatively, "You know, honey, maybe this isn't such a good idea. We could get into all kinds of -- "

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Clark," Lois muttered. "You want to have some fun, don't you?"

"Well..........yeah........."

"Good. Then be a good boy and keep quiet." She patted him lightly against one arm. "It's hard to see where everyone is in there now that they've dimmed the lights."

Clark sighed and directed a half-hearted burst of x-ray vision through the wall. His eyes drifted to the stairwell and he checked it too. He grimaced. Left to his own devices, his gaze began to wander along his wife's curves. She was bending forward to peer through the curtain now, one steadying hand spread against her thigh. The pose gave him an interesting perspective, reminding him of the way she'd teased him earlier as she'd pretended to fix her non-existent lace. His eyes slid lower, down along the length of her spine, and settled intently on the rounded curves beneath. After a moment's consideration, he found himself, almost inevitably, reaching out to do what he'd wanted to then.

Lois started as she felt his hands cup her bottom and he heard her giggle softly as he slid his spread fingers down onto the back of her thighs, before reversing course to slid upward and beneath the hem of the tight skirt. His eyes widened as he found less than he expected. Something that had somehow escaped him in the heated fumbling of the restroom. Though he couldn't quite understand how.

"When did you - ?" he coughed out, startled. He quite clearly remembered watching her dress that morning in their hotel room and panties had definitely been part of the ensemble.

"Last time I visited the little girl's room," she informed him. There was a breathless note in her voice that dissolved into a faint moan as his hands tightened on her bare flesh, kneading firmly. His large fingers clenched and flexed as she wriggled delightfully against his touch. She glanced across her shoulder at him with a wide grin.

"That's the idea, big fella," she congratulated him. "Knew you'd catch on......" she added in a breathy whisper and then groaned as he shifted his grip, one hand pressing to the curve of her hip to cradle her in place against him, before the other nudged its way enquiringly between her thighs. His fingers brushed through her damp curls to find her wet and his probing touch released a heady, enticing burst of scent that signaled her growing arousal. The combination of musky scent and the feel of her slick inner folds against his fingers excited him almost unbearably. The rough material of his pants rubbed almost painfully against the hard ridge growing between his legs as his nostrils flared.

Lois murmured something incoherent as she bucked against his exploring fingers, her lookout position forgotten, and then squeaked as Clark, having taken a bare moment to scan the area around them, removed his hands, took one of her arms in a firm grip and all but dragged her with him into a nearby storage locker.

"Clark! Ooooh........!" her startled gasp was drowned by the fire suddenly flooding through her, melting her into his embrace as he backed her up hard against the wall, ignoring the clatter of several, unknown objects falling around them as he melded his lips to hers in a soul-searing kiss. The lean, muscled length of his body pressed the breath from her in a dizzying whirl of sensations as he trapped her against the cold, slick surface at her back and he was already burrowing beneath her skirt again, his hands finding the moist, hot core between her legs. He gave a grunt of satisfaction as he found her hot and wet and eager for him and Lois jerked against his testing hand with a sharp whimper.

"Gee.....no....no one.......ohhhhh.......could accuse you of being a......oh, Clark!......slow learner........." Lois gasped out as he fumbled briefly with the zipper of his pants with one hand. He used the other to grip her leg and pull it up around his thigh. Lois' calf muscles clenched around him and he groaned deeply in his throat. He entered her in a hot, sweet rush, one eager, vigorous thrust sheathing him deep inside her and she cried out as he immediately began a swift, driving rhythm, plunging deeper and deeper each time he filled her with the hard thick length of his shaft. His hands clenched tight on her buttocks, holding her captive against the cradle of his hips and she bit down hard into her lower lip to stifle another cry as the rough material of his pants, bunched around his groin, rubbed a sweet, searing path of fire against her swollen nub.

"Clark..........!" She could feel the taut coil in the pit of her belly expanding and contracting with each vigorous thrust he made and the harsh sounds of his breath as he panted hot against her neck. Her voice began a rising wail up, higher and higher, until it pierced some of the fog of desire that was driving him and he clapped a hand against her lips, holding back her scream as he drove hard into her one last time.

Lois felt him lengthen within her and her muscles clenched tight around the pulsing thickness filling her, her body jerking spasmodically in his tight grip as she found her own release, feeling him pour himself into her as the world became bright and fragile around her and shattered into a blinding, sunburst pulse of heat and ecstasy.

She clung to him as the shuddering aftermath of her climax shook her, understanding dimly that he was the only thing still holding her upright. Limply, she rested her chin against his shoulder, swallowing in harsh gulps of breath as she waited for her heart to find a less frantic pace. Spent and sated, he pressed his face deeply into the hollow of her neck and after a time, as her awareness sharpened and the warm, languid heat in her belly and groin faded to a satisfied, warm ache, she became aware that he was too still.

"Clark?" she whispered.

For a moment, he didn't respond and then a low, shuddering sigh brushed her skin. "Are you okay?" his voice came muffled from her shoulder.

Lois laid her head back against the wall behind her, closing her eyes as a smile played across her lips. "I'm just fine......." she purred. She stretched languidly as best she could in his grip, cat-heavy and sleek as she felt another purr rumble up from her throat. She felt more than fine. She felt just...........wonderful.

But something was wrong. She could sense it. He was trembling so hard against her, his breath shuddering in his chest and he hadn't moved.

"Clark?" She put her hands against his head, trying to raise it so that she could look into his eyes. But he simply burrowed tighter into the hollow of her throat, mumbling incoherently against her skin. Confused now, she made out a few, broken words. 'I'm sorry........I'm so sorry......' he was saying. Over and over.

"Clark, what's wrong?" she said, frightened now, just a little, by his odd behavior. "Clark, please. Look at me."

He lifted his head, easing himself from her. She felt a sharp sense of loss as he slipped slickly from her depths, leaving her feeling empty. He wouldn't look at her. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You know I wouldn't ever - "

"What? Clark, you didn't hurt me," she started, bewildered, but he was shaking his head pushing himself clear of her to lean back against the wall behind him.

"You don't have to lie to me," he said. "I know what I did." He shook his head again and added, a low, tortured whisper, "God, how could I -- -? Lois, I practically - "

He was cut off as her eyes widened suddenly and she pushed her hands against his shoulders, backing him up against the wall with a solid thump as her eyes flared ferociously into his. "Don't you dare say that! Don't you ever even think that!"

He blinked at her in the dimness of the locker, startled into silence by her ferocity. "But - " he protested after a moment. "I didn't give you the chance to -- " His gaze dropped before hers, guilt harbored painfully in their depths. "I didn't even ask if you wanted - "

Lois growled at him, frustrated. "Clark Jerome Kent! Did I just give you the slightest reason to think I didn't want you to do what you just did?"

He thought about it. "Well......no," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean you did," he added, almost stubbornly.

He was bound and determined to beat himself over the head on this one, she saw with a disgusted grimace. Sometimes - just sometimes - that boy scout nobility of his could be a prize pain in the butt. She folded her arms, retreating slightly to press back against the wall behind her.

"I thought I'd made it pretty clear that I was having a good time," she said, with a slightly dangerous edge to her voice now.

"Well...." The flicker of a grin almost overtook him, before it was quashed. "Yes.....

"And you don't seriously think that I'd let any man - even my husband - do anything to me that I didn't *want* him to do, do you?" she challenged him, a hard, battle-light suddenly in her eyes.

"No, of course not!" he blurted, genuinely startled. "Lord, honey, you'd put them in emergency first! They'd probably never walk again. But -- "

"But?" She said softly, reaching out to cradle his face in her hands, unable to see his expression clearly in the darkness, but feeling his guilt and pain radiate out from him to touch her nevertheless.

"But that's not the point." He dropped his eyes again, unable to hold hers, and she could feel the heat of his shame against the palms of her hands. "I wasn't even thinking about you," he confessed, sounding as though the admission was being torn from him. "Well, I mean, I was. But only to the extent that you were making me so..........well, so............"

"Hot?" Lois supplied dryly. His blush deepened. Lois sighed. "Clark," she said gently. "It doesn't *always* have to be moonlight and roses, you know. I mean, I love that you're so......gentle with me when we make love. So......concerned that you please me as much as yourself. You know," she added tentatively, "I never had that from any other man I've.......been with. They always just thought about their own pleasure. It was all that mattered to them. I told myself they were loving me. I didn't know to expect anything more. I didn't understand that they were just using me. Love didn't even enter the equation. And, I never really understood the difference. Until I met you."

"But, don't you see? I just did exactly the same to you as all those other men did. I was so caught up in what *I* wanted, how much I *needed* to be inside you, that I didn't even stop to think what you --- "

"No. Clark, what just happened......." Her eyes grew warm remembering those moments of passion. "What we just shared -- "

"Shared," he repeated, almost bitterly. He shook his head.

"Yes. Shared. Sweetheart, you may not have been thinking of me with your head, but you certainly were with your body," Lois told him fervently, desperate to convince him. He was listening, she could see that. But he still wouldn't look her in the eyes. "And you *were* thinking of me," she insisted. "You.......you know." She made an indeterminate gesture he failed to understand. She flushed and then charged on blindly, lowering her voice to an embarrassed mumble, even as she told herself it was silly to be embarrassed with this man, who knew her more intimately than any other ever had or would. But then, she thought, suddenly angry, he'd never acted as though being intimate with her was something to be ashamed of or something he'd done wrong. She felt tears prickling at the back of her eyes and brushed at them furiously with the back of a hand.

"You......checked that I was ready for you. If I hadn't been ready for you to......to......do what you did, then you wouldn't have gone any further."

"Wouldn't I? Lois, I was completely out of control. I - "

"You were passionate. Is that so wrong? You wouldn't have hurt me, Clark. You know you wouldn't have. Stop trying to beat yourself up over this. If I hadn't been ready, you'd have channeled that passion in other directions until I was. You'd have kissed me and.......touched me........until I was." She stopped, uncertainly. He was staring at her intently and she knew she'd struck a chord.

She gave him a soft, rueful smile. "Besides, I don't think it's possible for me *not* to be ready for you, you know. God, Clark, just the way you look at me sometimes makes me hot." She reached up, smile becoming tender as she pushed back the capricious lock of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead. "You big lunkhead. Don't you *know* what you do to me?"

He smiled faintly back at her. "But, the thing is," he whispered as he put out a hand that shook slightly to cup her cheek. "I can't let myself lose control that way." He looked solemnly into her anxious eyes. "Honey, I need to know that I can stop myself if I have to. That I won't hurt you."

"And you won't." Lois sighed. "Clark, for the past eight weeks you've made love to me in ways I've never imagined before you came into my life. You've been gentle and tender and passionate. For the first time, just now, you let that passion take you - take us both - higher than we've been before. That wasn't wrong. It was just............different. What you just did............? Oh, sweetheart, it was..............incredible."

He gave her a small, sideways glance out of the misery into which he'd sunk. "It was?" he sounded doubtful, but his eyes were beginning to glow gently in the dim light of the locker.

"Mmmmmmmm," Lois murmured, feeling a slow heat begin to pool between her thighs as her memories brightened. And then she recovered herself, looking at him sternly. "And, don't you dare say it wasn't."

"Well, I wasn't going to say *that*," he said with a sudden, low chuckle. "It was.........pretty good."

"Pretty good!"

"Mmmm-hmmmm. A-minus at least......" He bent his head and began to nuzzle at the hollow of her shoulder.

"Could do better?" Lois ventured, closing her eyes and slipping her arms around his neck as she molded her body against him.

"Absolutely." He raised his head and looked at her. "Honey, are you sure - ?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "Lord, you are *such* a worry-wart at times, Clark Kent! I'm sure. Okay?"

He smiled. "Okay." He gathered her into his arms, sighing gently as he settled her close against his chest.

"Course," Lois said after a moment, trailing the tip of one finger across the muscles of his neck, "that doesn't mean I won't occasionally want moonlight and roses too. As well as just plain old wild, frenzied sex."

He chuckled. "Whatever you want, you'll get, sweetheart. Trust me on that."

"Hmmmmm. Well, right now, what *I* want......." she paused for effect and he did too, paying her careful attention. "Is the Deluxe Package."

"Excuse me?" He glanced downward involuntarily and back up on her to raise a questioning brow.

Lois giggled. "Not that, silly." She slipped a questing hand down between them and found, as she expected, that what she discovered there was hard and throbbed hot against her palm. "That's always Deluxe. No, I was just thinking......." She squeezed gently as she curled her fingers around his swollen shaft and then rubbed her palm hard across it's straining length, smiling slightly at its involuntary twitch against her fingers. Like an eager puppy tugging at its leash. "Being a bona fide member of the Club is all very well, but once only gets you Standard membership, you know."

Clark took a moment to recover from the jolt of electricity her teasing touch had sped through his groin and then said shakily, "And for the Deluxe you'd need.....?"

"Oooh, twice at least," Lois said as her hands stroked at the muscles of his chest through his shirt. "Possibly a lot more than that," she added, somewhat hopefully.

Clark grinned at her, putting a hand over hers and carefully moving it back down to cover the front of his pants. "Well, Standard's no good for *my* girl," he said firmly, using his own hand to guide hers in pleasuring the hard ridge beneath her fingers. He moaned as she gripped him tightly and then swallowed her mouth in a deep, satisfying kiss before he finished breathlessly, "She always gets Deluxe."

Lois giggled as he pulled her close and began to nuzzle at her throat, her hand taking its own path as he left it to its own devices and engaged his own in tugging open the buttons of her jacket. "Well, you know, it's just like the news reports say............Superman *never* lies."

"Not about the important things," he agreed distractedly, as her jacket dropped in a soft heap to the floor at their feet.

Lois closed her eyes, smiling seductively into the darkness as her hands rose to play against his hair. "Still bored?"

"Uh-uh," he said, his hands drawing her camisole from the waistband of her skirt and slipping a heated path beneath its edge to skim across her ribs and up to cup her breasts, fondling their heavy weight with teasing strokes of his fingers. "You were right," he breathed, moving them on to push up the silk, feeling it rasp deliciously against his fingers as he bent his head to pull one already taut nipple into his mouth and hearing her soft gasp as her back arched against his lips. He lifted his head again momentarily to finish, "There's definitely something to be said for flying without the Suit."

"Mmmmmm, oh honey........." Lois murmured what he took to be an agreement as she clenched her fingers against the thick, dark waves and tugged his head restlessly closer.

Credits: A big, unofficial thank you to the MILE HIGH CLUB OFFICIAL WEB SITE. You didn't know it, guys, but you helped me out a LOT with this one! Isn't the web a wonderful research tool? <g>. Of course, I'd just like to clarify that there's really only *one* way to become a club member and no matter how many times you repeat the initiation you only get one level of membership. Everything else, Lois made up.