Coda Part 2

2.

Chloe resolutely decided not to be the first to call Clark Kent. She would wait for him to call her, or drop by to see her. The next four days passed without sight or sound of him. Her evenings were spent waiting for the phone to ring, so that she could see what he had to say to her, if he was sorry for standing her up. She rehearsed how she’d tell him to go to hell.

It had become habit for Lex Luthor’s limo to be parked out front of the Planet, waiting for her to emerge in the evening, for a largely silent ride back to Smallville. Lois knew nothing of it, because Chloe wasn’t about to tell her. She didn’t need or want another lecture. Champagne was their drink of choice, and silence was comfortable. But then he began to ask her questions about her day, showed genuine interest in her life; none of which Chloe bought as real concern. It was a game—a dangerous game that she was starting to enjoy, and knew she should stop playing at once.

“Heard from Clark?”

“Why do you care?” she snapped. Lex cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Just wondering.”

“No,” she said, in a softer tone. She looked out of the tinted window at the empty fields of grass that had taken over the city landscape. His hand rested on her right leg, his fingers on the inside of her thighs, and slid up her leg, hiking her skirt up.

“What are you doing, Lex?”

“You’re not a virgin, Chloe, you know a come on when it happens.”

“Is this the price of the cushy ride and the dry champagne?”

He grinned, taking the flute from her hand. He turned back to her, putting his left hand from her leg to behind her back, and then running a hand up her thigh.

“I haven’t had that much champagne,” Chloe said, though truthfully, she wasn't as repulsed as she probably should be, and felt reckless enough to let his hand stay. “Not enough to forget what you are, what you’ve done to me and my mo—”

He cut her off with a hard kiss. She tried to recoil, but Lex had a tight grip on her. She shoved ineffectually at his muscled chest, keenly aware of who he was, what he was, and turned on by it as much as she was repulsed. She was surprised by the skill in which he kissed her, and touched her.

“I hate you,” she said weakly.

“And that makes you want me even more.”

He ruthlessly ripped open her shirt, sending her buttons popping.

“Lex!”

He pushed her onto her back, spreading her legs and situating himself between her thights. His erection pressed against her clit.

“I’m not stopping,” he said.

“You’d rape me? Even you’re not that low.”

“I’m not going to rape you, Chloe. You want this as much as you hate it.”

Chloe’s panties tore under his hands, and her fingers found Lex’s zipper. Who was the last woman he’d fucked? Had it been Lana? She doubted it. Lex wasn’t the type to deny himself sex simply because he wasn’t in a meaningful relationship. If he was waiting for meaning, she thought, he’d never get laid.

“Tell me to do it,” he said, his lips against hers as he spoke. “Tell me.”

“Do it.”

“Say it, Sullivan. Say it.”

Slightly embarrassed, deeply aroused, Chloe felt the head of his cock at her wet entrance.

“Fuck me, Lex.”

He smiled, claimed her lips with his, and then thrust hard into her.

****

When they arrived outside of the Talon, Chloe’s clothes were tattered. Her blouse had to be held shut, her underwear were left on the floor of the limo, and her hair looked as though she’d just crawled out of bed after a particularly vivid nightmare. Anyone who saw her getting out of the back of Lex’s limo would know what she’d been doing with him. She smoothed her hair down, and accepted the leather jacket he’d been wearing.

Her body felt satisfied as she stepped onto the curb, but guilt and regret burned her stomach. She slid her purse over her shoulder and closed up the coat, ignoring the sneer from a teenaged boy on the curb who saw her climbing out. Lex rolled down the window.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Why don’t you come over to the mansion for dinner tomorrow night?”

“I have work to catch up on.”

He nodded, not believing her, but not pushing her either. “See you on Monday.”

Chloe nodded, turned, and strode into the talon. Clark stood at the bar, waiting on coffee, and Lana spotted her as she came in. She smiled and waved.

“Chloe! Sit with us.”

Loathing replaced the burning guilt in Chloe’s stomach and it must have passed through her eyes because Lana’s bright smile faltered.

“I’m busy. Some other time.”

“Chloe.”

She’d almost ran face first into Clark, who had two coffees in hand. Concern creased his brow.

“You okay?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

“Do I? I’m surprised you’d notice.”

“What?”

“Never mind, Clark.”

She started around him, but he stepped in her way, blocking her path.

“Chloe, what’s the matter? You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry. I’m fine,” she said, offering him a fairly convincing smile. “I’ve had a long day, I’m tired. ‘Night.”

She moved around him, and felt his eyes boring into her as she walked away. She heard him knock on the door forty-five minutes later, but she didn’t answer.

****

The next day, the phone rang. Chloe picked it up, hearing Lana’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Chloe, do you feel better? Clark and I are worried. You looked so upset last night.”

“I’m fine,” she said, but she didn’t sound fine, even she could hear it. Lana was silent for awhile on the other end, as though contemplating her words.

“Why don’t you come by for dinner? I’m making lasagna. Clark, Kara and I would love to have you. Now that I think about it, we’ve hardly seen you this past month.”

Chloe felt herself choked with anger, and disgust. She wished one of her abilities was heat vision. She would have seared Lana from the face of the earth. She didn’t understand her reaction, though. Lana hadn’t actually done anything to her, or broken any promises, but the last thing she wanted to do was spend the evening watching Clark and Lana make goo-goo eyes at one another, or try to pretend she liked Kara.

“I’ve got dinner plans.”

“Well, maybe tomorrow—”

“Goodbye.”

She’d barely clicked the phone shut when Clark’s familiar knock sounded on the door. Lois looked up from the magazine she was reading.

“Go away.” Chloe whispered so quietly Lois hadn't heard her, but Clark had.

“I’m not going anywhere until you open this door,” Clark said in response from the other side. Lois got up to answer, and pulled the door open.

“Smallville, come on in. I was just heading downstairs for a cuppa.” She turned in the doorway and gave Chloe a ‘talk to him’ look, before leaving. Chloe promptly got up and started for the bathroom, but Clark put a hand on the door to keep her from shutting it in his face.

“We’ve got to talk. What’s wrong?”

“I want a bath. I have dinner plans and I need to get ready.”

“Who are you going out with?”

“None of your goddamned business, Clark.”

“Chloe!” he looked comically shocked by the venom in her voice.

“Shut the door and get out. I don’t have anything I want to say to you.”

“Obviously you do.”

She pulled her shirt off, kicked off her shoes, and unhooked her bra. Clark turned away, looking uncomfortable, and listened to her get undressed.

“Last night, I could smell aftershave on you. You’ve got a new boyfriend?”

“What do you care?”

“I care.”

“If you care, then you’ll respect my wishes, and get out. I need to get ready.”

“You’re not going to talk to me?”

“No, I’m not.”

“At least tell me what I’ve done.”

“You’ve done nothing,” she said softly. “Absolutely nothing.”

Despite her nudity, Clark turned and looked her in the eye, his own eyes filled with confusion. He opened his mouth, but Chloe put a cool hand on his chest and pushed him out of the door. He hadn’t understood what she was trying to say, and in that moment, she remembered Lois's words.

Honestly, Chloe, I don’t know what you see in him. Ever since he and Lana started shacking up he’s been an absentee friend to you, just showing up when he needs you to do something for him…

Chloe turned away, knowing that Clark was probably on the other side of the door, looking through it and right at her. She didn’t want him to see the tears that spilled from her eyes. She didn’t want him trying to be a friend. She didn’t want that old love she’d felt for him (but was now dying) to make her forgive him. What hurt worst was that he didn’t even know what was hurting her. What kind of friend was that?

Have some self respect and forget about Clark Kent.

She was determined to do exactly that. As far as Chloe Sullivan was concerned, Clark Kent was just another guy. She grabbed her phone when she heard the door of the apartment close.

“Lex? Is that invitation for dinner tonight still good?”

Chapter 3