The Interview

Big was the right word for her. Lois had thought it was a pretty indelicate way to describe a lady, but Barda wasn’t simply tall. Lois was tall—five foot eight and she worked out like hell. Barda, she was big. Easily six foot five, not even in heels, and with arms that quite possibly could’ve been as big around as Lois’s waist. 

It was about time Metropolis had its own superhero. It was the biggest, baddest city in the world, yet Gotham was the one with the Bigfoot that fought crime and Boston had Wonder Woman. As great as she was, Lois was relieved that Barda was just so big.

She asked Lois to meet her in a dive bar in Suicide Slum. The place was a riot and Lois—dressed professionally in a skirt and blouse—clutched her taser in her purse as she skirted the edges of the spilled booze and downed bodies. Being in a room full of people who outweighed her by a hundred pounds was enough to make her consider being one of those open-carry nuts.

It was hard to miss Barda, even in all the cigarette smoke and chaos. She sat on a second-story landing, looking down at some of the fighting like a college scout watching a football game. She was wearing what looked like a red bikini, and Lois could only imagine the mayhem that had resulted in the bar patrons so aggressively minding their own business. Her bra and panties were red; the shape of her mound, with its deep hungry slit, was outlined where the fabric clung tightly to her groin. Her breasts were full and wide, pumping out from her chest with the same healthy heft that continued in her thick thighs and voluminous hair. 

“You’re the reporter?” Barda asked. Her voice was husky to the point of gruffness, and her gaze was rough when it traveled over Lois, as keenly felt as sandpaper picking at her skin. “They grow them small here.”

Lois decided then and there that Barda wasn’t the type to throw her weight around just to be a bully, but to see who could throw it back. She decided to give as good as she got. “It saves a fortune on doorframes.”

“Hunh.” Barda had a pitcher of beer in her hand. She wasn’t bothering with a glass. “You wanna talk? Talk.”

Lois set her recorder down as bluntly as she could. “First question: why do you do it? A woman with a body like yours must have... Options.”

Barda took a swig before answering, her incongruous baby blues staring at Lois the whole time. “I could ask the same of you--and your body. Fighting is in my blood. These criminals and conquerors are the only ones who pose a challenge. And it's... neighborly to smash them.”

“Neighborly?” Lois asked. The beer wench arrived with a drink for her. Lois didn’t even want to think about who had sent it over.

“I'm a guest on this planet, aren't I? Shouldn't I behave myself?”

“Yes,” Lois said, taking the beer she’d been served and sipping at it. “I just never thought of it that way. It's not like any of us are permanent residents, after all.”

Barda watched the beer disappearing from Lois’s glass as she drank again. “I plan on living forever. But that's no reason not to enjoy myself.”

“And how does Earth's newest defender have fun?” Lois asked as Barda drained her pitcher, making her feel like a lightweight.

Barda stood abruptly. “Walk with me.”

Lois was forced to jump to her feet and double-time to keep up with Barda’s headstart and long strides. “Okay. Just keep in mind, I'm already not dressed for this.”

“We can fix that.”

***

Outside, the night air didn't sober Lois up, to t knocked her for a loop. Some weird alchemy--the heat and noise of the bar suddenly transitioning to the cold and quiet outside. It let her drink go to her head like it was slipping through a chink in her armor.

Barda led her down the street. The brisk walk let Lois regain her equilibrium. Her head was still swimming. Barda threw open the industrial sliding door on an abandoned warehouse with one hand. Lois felt like Barda was trying to impress her. Really, all she had to do was swing her hips.

“Close your eyes,” Barda said, leading Lois inside. In the middle of the vast, empty, but surprisingly clean expanse of floor, Barda’d set up a living space of furniture but no walls, giving off the impression of hovering in nothingness.

“Why?” Lois asked, steadying herself on a table sitting in the middle of the floor.

“I need to change.”

Supposing she should be grateful for the small bit of temperance Barda showed, Lois obligingly closed her eyes. She heard the hiss of her tape recorder continuing to spool out—distantly, the ruffling of clothing.

“You can look now,” Barda said.

When Lois opened her eyes, Barda was completely naked. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her hips set down on a bed, legs crossed to hide herself a little from Lois. She grinned at her smugly as Lois’s eyes traced helplessly over the bold curves and supple muscles of Barda’s nude but teasingly hidden form.

Then Barda started unfolding her charms like the petals of a blossoming flowers. First one arm, then the other, unfolded from her chest. Her exposed breasts heaved in their perfection, twin hills of bronze temptation, erect nipples bulleting out from the firm flesh. Then her knees uncrossed, followed by her thighs separating. Barda’s hairless sex spread into a glistening openness, her pink inner flesh framed by the strong muscles of her inner thighs.

Barda dangled just one finger down to the thrumming mound of her womanhood. She traced her fingertip from her anus up to her clit, flicking the tiny button with her short fingernail. As her face winced in pleasure, a liquid spasm of feminine honey ran out of her slit.

Lois bit her lip, aware of a groaning noise of desire coming from deep in her chest. She wondered if the tape recorder would pick it up.

Now Barda entered herself to the last knuckle, slowly fingering her cunt, wiggling her ass as the pleasure of it grew and grew. By the time she pressed her thumb down against her clitoris, her hips were rutting forward, breasts trembling with the convulsions going through her. She was coming.

Satisfied, satiated, Barda leaned back down against her mattress, revealing herself in a final indolent sprawl, the beauty of her body making it a challenge. “Top that,” she said.

Lois turned the recorder off as she stepped forward.