The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
Sartorial Interludes
Clothes are not just on the outside. Lex, Lionel,
Clark, Martha
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Lex POV:
A crisp, white dress shirt. He puts it on carefully, mindful of the
creases. Armani black pants over white cotton briefs. A black jacket,
matching the pants.
His face is clean, bare of all makeup. He puts on white socks at $45
a
pair, black dress shoes which cost more than a LuthorCorp employee's
monthly salary.
He feels like he's playing dress-up.
He walks outside to meet his father, in a charcoal suit and a dark purple
tie. Lionel looks just as clean-cut and elegant as he is, if it weren't
for
his hair and his eyes.
Lex wonders if his dad feels like he's playing dress-up too.
They go through their usual routine; duelling with words, and later
on,
with foils. They talk of business and of history and of family and
attitude, but they don't talk of emotions.
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Lionel POV:
Alone, in the privacy of his secured home, away from the prying eyes
of
everyone who thinks they know Lionel Luthor, he dares. He wears a pair
of
blue denim shorts, a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He pulls
his
hair up in a silly-looking ponytail, to keep the hair out of his eyes.
He rests back in his comfy-chair and lights a cigarette, preparing for
a
quiet afternoon of reading a book and forgetting about business.
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Clark POV:
He put on the pantyhose first. Right over his briefs.
He bought them not only in another town, but in another state. He couldn't
stand to face the salesperson one more time in his life.
He bought the panties in a different state altogether. Told the clerk
it
was for a girlfriend. The clerk nodded, indifferent.
He knew panties should go under the hose, but that way he wouldn't be
able
to touch them, to stroke the soft, red lace.
It wasn't a sexual thing; he just thought it was pretty. So pretty.
It was so much prettier than anything he wore daily; more delicate than
anything he's ever touched with his big, powerful hands.
It was almost as soft as Lex's lips.
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Martha POV:
Clark had left for school. Jonathan went to work on the far end of the farm.
Martha hurried back in. She took off the apron she used in baking the
apple
pie first thing in the morning. She shook her hair until it became
wild,
dancing around her head.
She went upstairs and undressed. Off with the faded red sweater, off
with
the sensible jeans. She went through her closet. Then she went through
his.
Hot pink briefs. She bought them for her husband as a birthday gift.
He
smiled at her indulgently, and never wore them. Next on, denim
short-shorts. No shirt, just her black lace bra.
She looked in the mirror. Still had a great figure. Having a child without
being pregnant first had it's up sides.
She pushed a CD into the stereo, and danced. No cooking and cleaning
for
Martha today; she's gonna dance, all day long. Until her husband and
son
will return, and then she'll be the housewife again, make dinner, milk
the
cows, do the chores.
But until then, she'll dance.
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