Another night at the Torch.
The only light existing in the barren room is the blue filtered glow
of the monitor. It bathes her face in pale light and makes her eyes
sting from so many hours of staring intently. She thinks she can
actually feel her rods and cones aching for a rest. She prefers to
write in such a serene atmosphere. It's easier to concentrate without
everyone on the staff asking you a question every five minutes. Her
eyes still ache, and the words she's written begin to blur into
unintelligible black lines. She puts on sunglasses as a quick fix.
They work well enough to keep her going.
The only sound existing in the room is the tapping of her fingers as
they dance across the keyboard. The ticks and tacks of the keys echo
off of the walls, a natural reverb of annoying, yet ignorable sound.
She can hear her own breathing, and it's strange. A person never
really pays attention to his or her own breathing. But it's too quiet
to overlook the rhythmic hum of oxygen going in, and carbon dioxide
Tic, tic, tic.
Squint your eyes against the light.
She always worked better at night. A time where the ideas could flow
like water and she had no one to deal with. A time where she came up
with her best ideas and best stories. Still, with all the creativity
she feels flowing, she knows she's stayed far too late again. She
reaches for the cup next to her notebook and discovering it is empty,
sighs, and pushes it away. She knows it's a mistake to try and do
this without the warm comfort of coffee. But she's grown tired of the
running joke that she was a caffeine addict. She never found it
funny. It was the most logical thing to keep her awake. She really
has no desire to develop a speed habit, and she thinks she's too
young to start popping any other kind of pep pills. If anyone who
made those jokes about her had half the dedication she had, they
would know that it was a vital part in keeping alert enough to finish
articles and meet deadlines. Did they really think the real world
ended at three o'clock just like school? Or even if you did stay
late, it still ended when dinnertime rolled around? She knew it
didn't, but no one else seemed to.
Well, except maybe for Lana. She'd stayed longer than anyone else had
helping, smiling and talking politely, her hair scented with
lavender. It made her nose itch. Lana always seemed to stay longer
than the others did, and it was strange because she wasn't even on
the paper. "I like to help," she said simply, her voice speaking
sincerity, her eyes channeling something else. Now that she thinks
about it, Lana seemed to always be around her when no one else was.
When Lana would pull her hair back, revealing the delicate skin of
her neck. She felt like she could stare at that skin for hours.
Wondering what it would feel like, how it would taste. Sweet and
salty, she thinks. Just like Lana was. And Lana would catch her
staring and smile. Just smile. Those eyes of hers conveying knowledge
but remaining playful. Still, even she left when prime time came on.
She yawns, the sound of it getting muffled along with the other
It's way too late.
She's tired, has no coffee, and her article is still far from done.
She yawns again and the sound seems to make her eyelids even heavier.
She doesn't want to fall asleep in the Torch office again. She swears
if she wakes up at her desk one more time she'd scream, but she's not
too sure about risking driving home when she can barely focus on a
computer screen anymore.
In-between more taps on the keyboard she thinks she hears footsteps
beyond on the door. No one should be on the school grounds. Gus the
janitor had left hours ago, turning off the lights to this room as he
did. She stops typing and tilts her head to listen more intently but
it only met with silence. She shrugs and goes back to her article,
taking off her sunglasses and reaching for her cup again, already
forgetting that it is empty.
She knows she heard something that time. She turns her head toward
the doorway but only sees the black that the room was bathed in. Her
eyes are blurry from fatigue and she thinks she saw something move in
the blackness, but can't find the energy to look or care.
Yawning for a third time, she really thinks that now would be a good
time to go home.
Dedication didn't always have to equal sleep deprivation.
She's about the save the file and just go home when she feels the
delicate breeze blow across the back of her neck. She jumps at the
sensation and spins around in her chair, her heart pounding inside
her chest. She gasps at the sight of Lana Lang smiling down at her.
"You scared the hell out of me," she says.
Lana doesn't say anything, just keeps smiling.
"You came back," she says. "I wasn't expecting you too."
Lana is still smiling when she moves her hand to rest softly on her
shoulder. It causes warmth to run straight through her spine,
spreading all the way down and between her legs. She almost gasps at
such a sensation coming from simple contact.
"I thought of you sitting here all by yourself," Lana says
finally. "Didn't seem like that much fun to me."
"So you came all the way back at?" She checks her watch. "One thirty
in the morning just so I wouldn't be alone?"
"Something like that."
"Should I be flattered?"
Lana smiles again. Her teeth are so white it reminds her of people
from toothpaste commercials. Lana's perfect smile, Lana's perfect
hair, Lana's perfect lips curved and inviting. She pulls her hair
back a little past her shoulder, the soft skin of her neck grabbing
her attention once more. Lana sees her looking. Her smile widens.
"You're different Chloe," she says. "Aren't you?"
She has no idea what she means, but Lana's hand moves to slide across
the skin of her neck and she can't help but close her eyes and her
fingers move to caress her cheek.
"Different how?" She asks.
"Different," she says softly, her hand beginning to tremble just the
slightest bit. "Like me..."
She trails off and for a second she thinks that Lana is done talking
and will magically disappear like she magically appeared. But she
doesn't, and when she opens her eyes Lana's perfect smile and perfect
lips are mere inches from her own.
"Like me," she said again, her voice shaking just a little.
Her eyes close again as she feels the smooth gentle caress of Lana's
lips pressing against her own. She enjoys it for a second. Lets her
natural curiosity of the moment feed the need to remain still. But it
doesn't last as long as Lana would like, because she lets a sound out
that lets Chloe know she didn't want it to end so quickly.
She looks down at her boots, can feel Lana's eyes on her, can feel
the blush flushing into her cheeks. She could admit to herself that
she had wondered what kissing Lana Lang would have been like. How her
lips would feel, soft of course, but something firm behind them. She
can admit to daydreaming about it constantly. But that actual event
itself, the moment where simple wondering became action well... Not
everyone knows how to deal with it so easily.
Lana's hands move back to her shoulder, fingers running along the
length of her collarbone. She is still looking at her boots when she
feels Lana's lips press a small kiss on the side of her mouth. She
can't help but turn her head. The smell of Lana's lavender scented
shampoo is enticing but still makes her nose itch. The taste of her
lip-gloss still remnant on her own lips, makes her head turn even
Lana's other hand moves to her hip, and she steps even closer. The
sight of Lana's skin so close is making her think of things she never
imagined. Her face feels hot and red because of it. Lana's fingers
tighten on her shoulder and hip and she kisses her again. Her eyes
close and Lana's tongue runs slowly across the bottom lip before
gently prying her lips apart and exploring the inside of her mouth,
finding her tongue and inviting it to play.
She gasps as Lana presses closer against her body, her hands running
along the small of her back, fingers darting underneath her shirt to
feel the skin. Lana breaks the kiss just long enough to look into her
"We flourish in the evening, when stars and moon do glow, and we
watch them shine together, where no one else will know. You and me
darling, are simply vespertine."
So Lana Lang liked girls and was a poet as well. Who knew?
"Don't pretend we aren't doing this," she says.
Chloe shakes her head. She knows exactly what is going on. The
growing desire to feel whatever Lana is feeling. She moves closer,
her own hands moving around Lana's waist, exploring Lana's skin. The
brunette moans softly against her cheek as her fingers wisp around
the tiny hairs on her back. Then before she can think they're kissing
again. Lana's hands move quietly and carefully across Chloe's body,
Chloe still feels the instinct to push her hand away but still lets
Lana's fingers inch slowly passed the waistline of her jeans, trace
the edge of her panties. The surprise of building intimate contact
makes her gasp and break the kiss. She's speechless that sweet,
unassuming Lana can be so forward all of a sudden and she buries her
head into the other girl's shoulder. Lana's fingers move further,
gently brushing the mound of soft curls, and Chloe sighs into her
collarbone, her tongue snaking out to taste the skin. It's warm and
sweet and salty, just like she knew it would be.
Sweet Lana's skin, sweet Lana's lips, sweet Lana's fingers now
Her hands tighten even more on Lana's clothes and she bites her lip
to keep from being too loud. She doesn't want to know what her cries
of pleasure would sound like echoing off the walls. Lana's hands are
moving swiftly inside her pants, her fingers working their magic.
Lana's tongue runs along her neck and Chloe can only keep biting her
lip as she feels the pressure begin to build between her legs. She
can't believe this is happening. She can't believe she's letting it
happen. Lana's hand moves quicker, her thumb brushing expertly across
her clit as her fingers push further inside. Her eyes close as the
heat finally becomes too much and she cries out at the wave of
euphoria rushing throughout her entire body. She shudders against the
others girl body, her cries muffled into the cloth of her shirt.
She breathes heavily for a few moments; the beads of sweat building
on her forehead. She tastes a drop of blood on her lip from biting it
so hard. And she feels strange because she doesn't mind at all.
"You've never done that before have you?" Lana whispers into her ear.
"No," she replies, shifting her legs slightly and Lana delicately
removes her fingers from inside her. "But I wanted too. With you...
She finally removes her head from Lana's shoulder and is met with
another pretty smile. There is a small hint of satisfaction in Miss
Lang's eyes, but not quite fulfilled. Chloe feels the grin on her
lips as her own hands begin to explore the route Lana's had done on
her own body. And of course Lana's gasps are perfect.
Perfect Lana's lips, perfect Lana's hips, perfect Lana's silk...
Chloe smiles at the feel of the smooth fabric.
Lana nods and Chloe lets her fingers slip a little further down. She
feels Lana shudder briefly as her hands find the slick folds of her
core, and the brunette mumbles something she can't quite understand
and she begins to kiss along her neck. She moves her fingers a little
faster and Lana's hands tighten around her, so she thinks that she
must be doing something right. She looks into Lana's eyes, but
they're glazed and unfocused. She gently slips a finger inside and
Lana gasps and mumbles something else unintelligible.
Lana presses herself as close as she can, her breath coming in short
gasps and her lips traveling along Chloe's neck and shoulder. She
knows she's close, her legs are beginning to buckle, and the only
sounds she can make are 'mm' and 'oh.' Chloe slips another finger
inside and Lana cries out and squeezes her arms around her back, the
orgasm flooding through her body. When Lana regains her breath she
kisses Chloe's hair, the top of her head, and finally her lips once
more. Chloe eases her hand from Lana's pants and wraps it around her
waist. They stand there for along time, barely moving.
Chloe thinks of the article she's not going to finish, and just this
once the idea of it doesn't bother her.
She could always work on it tomorrow. And if Lana just happened to
stop by again...
Well, she always works better at night.