What Would Diana Do?

Arcadia81 set up this poll for the Superman/Wonder Woman Yahoo Group. Thinking about it was fun and spawned a short story using some of option A and mostly F.

Diana wakes up at 7:30am. She has an important meeting at her Embassy at 9:00am. Clark wants to fool around. Should Diana:

A. Give in to temptation and arrive at the meeting late with a big smile on her face.

B. Kindly tell Clark, no, but her schedule is open between 11:30am and 1:30pm.

C. Give in to temptation, arrive at the meeting with a big smile on her face, but tell everyone there was an unexpected emergency that needed Wonder Woman's attention.

D. Kindly tell Clark, no, and tell him to get a better control of his needs.

E. Kiss Clark and pulls away before he really gets `happy' and wickedly tells him, "Tonight…when I get home."

F. Other. Explain.

Clark stirred as the mattress shifted and the woman next to him rose and walked into the bathroom. Sated from last night, but still a little sleepy, he stretched and plumped up his pillows, resting one arm behind his head. A glance at the bedside clock told him it was 7.30am.

The bathroom door opened and a tall, voluptuous brunette walked into the room. She moved to the dresser mirror, her arms raised upward as she played with her long, black riotous hair curls.

Clark's eyes feasted on the long line of her spine, the curvaceous swell of her hips, and her skin, which had a luster to it even with the heavy drapes drawn against the morning sun. He liked how at ease she seemed about her nudity.

"Got time for breakfast or are you rushing off?" he asked, aware that his question would surprise her. They didn't make a habit of eating together when she had to reach the Embassy for an early morning meeting.

She flicked him a curious look in the mirror and continued twisting her hair expertly into a knot that looked sophisticated.

"Let me guess." Clark clicked his tongue. "The Armenian Chief of Staff. The Zeus Room."

Again, he felt the wash of cool blue in her glance as she turned. "They'll be early," she said, "and my mother is meeting me at Themyscira House."

She bent and plucked something from the floor.

Clothing would be scattered all over, he thought. It was always like that. The moment they were inside the bedroom, there was no decorum, no neatly undressing and folding and hanging. Sometimes they were lucky they were no ripped garments.

Last evening, she'd worn a long peach gown, with a strap over one shoulder tied in an elegant bow. Easy to get in—and out—of, and entirely suitable for Embassy meetings.

Despite her accessible outfit, it had still seemed to take an age to get his hands on her last evening. Time moved like a slow-motion movie clip even though he was Superman and was famous for his super speed.

Even now, after so many nights together, his super memory ensured that each image was burned into his brain: the silkiness and fragrance of her creamy skin, the tumble of her hair as he tugged it into disarray, her sighs as he bared her to his hungry mouth and hands. Each set of images was different, he treasured the thought of her picturing their times together, waiting for his kisses and touch, loving the way he tore at her clothing, cherishing his own memory of her hot mouth on his chest lapping at his nipples, her firm hands running over his butt, then stroking him to higher peaks of passion. Each set of images stayed with him, replayed over and over in his mind as he went about his daily routine as Clark Kent and his spectacular acts as Superman.

He watched now as she took fresh underwear from the bureau of drawers. "I saw you on TV last night," he commented. "The shots didn't do you justice."

Diana, Ambassador of Themyscira, daintily stepped into her underwear. "You never feel they do. Not even when I'm dressed as Wonder Woman."

Clark's mouth went dry at the little shimmy her hips did to facilitate the placement of her underwear. "I love your legs," he countered mildly. "I could sculpt them."

Diana smiled. She turned her attention to pulling out a formal Themysciran gown for her meeting, shaking it out. "I do hope that my legs are the only ones you want to sculpt," she said as a breathy huff of amusement burst from her lips.

She raised her arms fluidly and the gown floated down like an ethereal cloud, veiling her body.

Clark gazed at her, desire curling its claws into him again. Even after three tumultuous orgasms in just under four hours, he wanted her again, quite super-humanly. "Jealous, Diana?" he asked pleasantly.

She turned her back, arching a brow at him in the mirror. "Jealous, Clark?" she asked, deliberately imparting an edge of sarcasm, as she repeated his words.

"Do I need to be? Can't imagine Bruce allowing Lois to run free."

Holding his gaze, she carefully tied the laces her shoulders and then reached behind her to tug at the zipper of her dress.

Clark threw back the covers and in less than a second, stood behind her, his knuckles pressing purposefully into every nub of her spine as he worked the zipper slowly up.

He took her breath away, even after all this time. His shoulders seemed an aircraft wing-span across.

She was not narrowly built by any means, having inherited the full body form of the Amazons, but Clark was so much broader than she was. He was a full head taller than her, his short, curly, black hair a little disheveled, his spit curl causing her to reach up and play with it.

He was beautiful...with his thick brows, golden skin, hard, rippling muscles, tight powerful buttocks...

Full sensuous lips brushed her ear, generating a flutter of excitement deep in her belly.

Bad sign. She should definitely go. Her mother was expecting to meet her at the Embassy for breakfast before the meeting, anyway.

But then his eyes locked on to hers in the reflection and he bent his head to nuzzle at the top of her shoulder. "No hurry, is there?"

Diana leaned her head back to nestle in his throat, watching him with half-closed eyes. Behind her, his hand continued its slow progress, now in between her shoulder blades, each centimeter leaving a trail of heat that caused her back to arch. She sent a silent apology to her mother for her anticipated lateness.

Clark Kent was irresistible to her. It had been that way since the first clash of their eyes so many years ago as she debuted in patriarch's world. Then Clark had made his feelings clear with that scorching kiss. The deep hot emotions had never foundered, being built on a rock solid base of deep and abiding love and friendship.

Even now, she couldn't believe they'd even made it so far in their relationship without her skin blistering from the heat of their passion. Their intense attraction was as powerful as ever.

The zipper was fully up but Clark's hot gaze was not that of someone who wanted her dressed. He caressed the back of her neck close to her hairline, an exquisite touch that made her breath catch. The heat of him behind her, naked and masculine, bathed her skin. He slowly moved his hand to the laces of the gown so recently tied on her shoulders, watching her as if challenging her to stop him. The laces had as much resistance as her mind, and the front panel of the dress collapsed in front but was supported by the zipper at back. Not supported enough for the weight of her breasts, which spilled out, taut and aroused.

"Now look what I've done," Clark murmured in her ear. "And I was only trying to get to know you better."

Diana swallowed and raised her hands, cupping her breasts. "You know me," she said breathlessly, playing the game. "You know these."

"Yes, I know these." His big hands relieved hers of their burden, kneading and squeezing just the way she liked. Diana welcomed the onslaught of sensations that had become familiar yet never failed to render her boneless. Even as she wondered vaguely about her meeting, it was beyond her to resist his touch. She swirled in a hazy pool of delight at his breath on her neck, his hands on her flesh, the hot, hard wall of him pressed up against her back.

He used his hands unhurriedly, feathering down her sides to her buttocks, pausing to caress them in a circular motion that made her shiver.

"I know these…" he murmured as his hands slid over the sensitive backs of her thighs, down to her knees and up again, the fabric of the dress slipping and sliding over her smooth skin, higher and higher until it was bunched around her hips.

Her breath came in shallow gasps now as he held her captive in front of him. She ought to feel wanton and ashamed, watching them in the mirror, observing her total submission to his hands, his mouth as he nibbled and licked her neck and the top of her shoulder.

She was on her way to Hades and pleased about it, she thought, feeling the scrape of her panties down her legs.

When Clark touched her, she felt beautiful and proud that he loved her and wanted her. He was a man of substance, a Superman. Their relationship was based on strong bonds of longstanding friendship and deep affection, but his desire for her, the passion he evoked from her, made her feel delightfully free. With Clark, she relinquished all attempts to be Amazonian or Princess and was simply the woman he loved. She would never give up these moments together.

She brought her fingertips down to the dresser to steady herself, just as his thigh wedged between her trembling legs, nudging them apart. His breath skittered up the length of her back, making every downy hair stand to quivering attention. Anticipation backed up in her throat.

"I know this," he insisted, his fingers lightly probing while she moaned softly, her eyes closing to contain the most sublime pleasure.

He shifted closer. A red-hot streak of sensation ripped through her and she realized it wasn't his fingers probing and gliding now, sliding in between her legs. The weight of him leaning over her back forced her forward and she pressed her palms down on the dresser, bracing herself.

"Open your eyes, Diana," he instructed, sliding one arm around her waist.

Her head lolled heavily back and hit his chest. She pried her eyes open and found his, fierce and compelling, staring back at her through the mirror.

"Does it bother you," he asked in a voice rough with passion, "that you'll miss your meeting at the Embassy?"

Diana was past reason. She wanted much more of what he was doing to her, and she wanted it now. She stared at him, pushing back into his body, squeezing her thighs together to trap him.

With an effort almost too much to bear, she forced her mouth to open, to speak. "Clark," she told him tightly. "Don't stop because of some meeting."

Queen Hippolyta of Themyscira waited in vain for her eldest daughter to join her for breakfast. Unperturbed by her daughter's absence at breakfast, she enjoyed her own meal. She had never known Diana to take her responsibilities lightly.

But her face began to register her concern as the minutes ticked by and her daughter still did not make an appearance.

Reluctant to call the Kent apartment and disturb what she hoped were genuine attempts to create her first grandchild, she marched across to Donna's suite of rooms at Themyscira House.

Donna would have to do.