by Karen Colohan

Clark had sought refuge on the stone steps leading to the mansion's wine cellar. Outside in the heat, guests indulged in Luthor hospitality that held no appeal for him. He sat, fingers toying with the box that had held the wedding rings. It was empty now, like Clark's heart.

"Lex and I made love down here. He was very enthusiastic, so eager to please."

Startled, Clark turned.

Desiree seated herself, the white silk of her dress flowing around her, a mockery of virginal purity.

"Would you please me, Clark?" she breathed against his lips.

Above, the approaching footsteps went unnoticed.

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