Season 5, rewrite of "Exposed"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Read the previous chapter here.
Read the story from the beginning here.
Detective Sawyer let Clark go a short while later. Chloe was still tied up with the other "talent," so he couldn't speak with her. Remembering her instructions, he hightailed it to the Planet.
The basement was dark and still-- which was a good thing, because Clark was uncomfortably aware he was sort of trespassing without Chloe here. He'd supersped past the yawning security guard, but he didn't particularly want to explain to anyone else what he was doing here this time of night, using the Daily Planet's computers, without Chloe.
He sat down in front of her computer and started looking through the photos Chloe had taken. They showed only one diplomatic license plate, so he started trying to find the owner, making his way awkwardly through the database.
Long minutes crawled by as he struggled with the computer. It took a while, and he knew Chloe could have done it in a fraction of the time... but he wasn't Chloe. But eventually he managed to identify the guy. His last name was Lyon, and he resided at the UN building in downtown Metropolis.
Clark leaned back in the chair and smiled to himself. Chloe was going to be proud of him. Hell, he was proud of himself. Okay, so she'd done all the real investigative work by photographing the license plates-- but he'd manage to use that information to identify the guy. Not bad work for an amateur.
He thought of Chloe smiling proudly at him, and his chest grew tight.
No, wait, that wasn't his chest. It was a ways down from there.
He shut his eyes and breathed slowly, trying to get control of himself. It was stupid for him to keep having this reaction to thoughts of his best friend. Just because he'd seen her bare breasts bouncing as she swayed seductively and sinuously around a pole, just because she'd sat in his lap and pressed right up against him--
His train of thought didn't do much to calm him down. He groaned softly, shifting in the chair. The chair where Chloe sat every day, her soft, round bottom resting on it the way it had rested on his lap...
His hard-on gave a fierce jerk, and he groaned a little more loudly. God, he was dying here. He was so hard he actually ached with need. Maybe if he just sort of...
No. Wrong. He was not jerking off in the Daily Planet building while sitting at Chloe's desk. If anyone happened to spot him, he'd get arrested for indecent exposure or something, and he'd probably get Chloe in a world of trouble besides.
Anyway, he was trying to clear someone of murder here, and that was a lot more important than his physical needs. His stupid body was just going to have to chill out for a while. Either that, or he was just going to have to learn to ignore it.
Although a hard-on this size was hard as hell to ignore.
He sighed, then got to his feet and went into superspeed.
When he got back to the Wingate, the cops were gone.
And so was Chloe.
He looked through the darkened, quiet building, searching everywhere for her, but didn't find her. Eventually he realized she was probably in the changing room backstage, pumping the girls for more information.
He hesitated a moment, then headed down the narrow hall toward the changing room. The idea of seeing that many naked boobs scared the hell out of him, but maybe he'd get lucky, and see one pair in particular.
That idea made a thrill go down his spine.
He pushed the door open. The room was mostly empty, except for the skinny redhead he'd seen on stage earlier. Somewhat to his disappointment, Chloe and her boobs were nowhere in sight.
The redhead glanced up and smiled, apparently not at all concerned by the fact that she wasn't wearing anything on top. He figured she was used to going around mostly naked by now.
"Hi, honey," she said warmly, speaking to him as if he were ten. He guessed the suit and tie wasn't fooling anyone-- he still looked like a teenager. Damn it, I need to grow a beard. "Looking for your friend?"
He blinked at her, surprised. "My friend?"
"Yeah, the new girl, the pretty blonde. I saw the two of you talking earlier. She's your girlfriend, right?"
He opened his mouth to deny it, then decided trying to explain the complicated relationship between him and Chloe would take up too much time. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "She's my girlfriend. Have you seen her?"
She sighed, and he saw sympathy in her eyes. "Honey, I hate to tell you this... but I think she's moved on to greener pastures. She left with that foreign guy."
The new girl-- who is she? I want her.
His chest went tight. He focused his superhearing and realized that Chloe was no longer in the building. Her heartbeat was gone.
Damn it. Cold dread curled in his chest. Had she left voluntarily... or had she been abducted?
Shouldn't have left her, he thought angrily.
He remembered her confident words: I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.
The fact was that she could take care of herself, and he didn't believe for a minute she would have let the mysterious Mr. Lyon abduct her. She wasn't stupid, and if he'd tried to take her against her will, she would have screamed bloody murder and kicked him in the balls.
No. She'd gone with the guy voluntarily.
It made sense, really. Chloe wouldn't hestiate to go to extremes like stripping for a story, and she wouldn't hesitate to risk her life for that same story, either. She'd said she was investigating a murder-- presumably the same murder he was investigating. He figured she took the stripper's death very seriously, and was determined to solve this thing. Determined enough to go with Mr. Lyon and find out exactly what he was doing with the women he took from the Windgate.
Obviously she'd sent Clark off on an errand because she knew perfectly well he wouldn't agree with her plan. And then, the minute the cops had released her, she'd left with the guy.
A guy who was buying women for half a million apiece... and making them disappear.
"Hey," the redhead said, misinterpreting his long silence. "I'm sorry, hon."
He focused on her for the first time in a while, noticing she'd put a t-shirt on. He was a little surprised to realize he hadn't even really noticed her bare boobs. He'd been too busy thinking about Chloe's.
"It's okay," he said roughly. "Do you have any idea where he took her?"
"No one knows where he whisks the girls he chooses off to," she said with a wistful little smile, and he realized she hoped the guy would take her away from here next. She seemed like a nice woman, he thought, remembering the gentle sympathy he'd heard in her voice when she told him Chloe had gone.
It occurred to him that this redhaired woman might be the guy's next victim, and that made a cold anger begin to build in his chest. He didn't like the idea of these women being abducted for some nefarious purpose, not at all. They weren't just strippers, damn it. They were people.
As usual, Chloe was right. This story was worth risking her life for.
But he wasn't going to let Chloe risk her life. He wasn't going to let her meet the fate that stripper had met last night, and he wasn't going to let her disappear, either. He had to find her, so he could protect her.
The problem was, he didn't have any leads.
No, wait. Of course he did. He'd done the research, after all. The guy lived at the UN building. There was no guarantee he'd taken Chloe back there-- but it was a place to start.
"Thanks," he said to the redhead. And then he turned, walked out into the hall, and jumped into superspeed.
He was going to rescue Chloe's pretty little round ass.
Read Chapter 5 here.