As game shows went, Clark had to admit that "Press Your Luck" was one of the stupider ones around. The host was irritatingly conceited, and the questions made little sense, but Clark found himself rooting for the contestants as they faced the prize board and tried to win "Big Bucks! Big Bucks!" while staying away from the Whammies. One contestant got her fourth Whammy, which put her out of the game, and stared dejectedly into the camera as an animated Whammy ate up her sailboat, trip to London and $5,000.00.

     "Too many Whammies, lady," Clark commiserated with the television set, shaking his head. "Just like Lois and me. Too many Whammies lately. We gotta do something about that." On a sudden inspiration, he spun into the supersuit and flew out the window. Lois wouldn't be up for a little while yet -- it was a holiday, and she had announced the night before that she intended to sleep in this morning -- so he should have plenty of time for his plan.

     A few minutes later he was back with an armload of purchases. He flew into the kitchen, grabbed an apron out of the middle drawer and began mixing ingredients. He clucked in exasperation as he set a box down a little too hard and cloud of baking mix billowed up and settled over the counter. He would have to clean that up in a minute, but right now his batter was just about ready to pour.

     "It clashes." The voice from the doorway startled him.

     "Wha--!? Good morning!" he said, smiling.

     "Good morning yourself. Your apron clashes with your suit - - pink ruffles, red spandex.. just doesn't work for me.." Lois grinned up at him teasingly as she pulled his head down for a kiss.

     Clark kissed her back soundly, then tried to fix a severe expression on his face. "Keep talking to me like that and I won't let you have any of these waffles." He gestured to the waffle iron which was beginning to give of a delicious aroma.

     "We have a waffle-maker? Who gave us that?" Lois had been writing thank-you notes for the wedding presents for days, but she didn't remember seeing a waffle iron on the list of presents.

     "I did. This morning. We've gotten hit with way too many Whammies lately."

     "Too many Whammies." She obviously didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

     "Uh-huh." Clark pointed to the tv where another contestant had just hit a Whammy and was glaring as it took away his cash and prizes.

     Lois looked at the tv screen, then back at Clark. "We've gotten too many Whammies and so we got a waffle-maker as a consolation prize?"

     Clark chuckled. "That's one way of looking at it, yeah. And it's called a waffle iron." He held up the box.

     "Oh. 'Scuse me," Lois apologized. Her voice was as serious as her words, but her eyes were dancing with laughter. She wandered back into the kitchen, moved a box out of the way, and hitched herself up to sit on the counter.

     "Don't sit-- there." Clark's warning came a second too late.

     "Why not?" Lois asked innocently.

     Clark looked faintly embarrassed. "Because I spilled flour there, and now you've got flour all over your hiney." He used a fork to tease the waffle loose from the iron, and flipped it onto a plate, slathering it with butter while it was still hot.

     "Oh," Lois responded in the same innocent tone. "Well, I guess you'll just have to come dust me off, won't you?"

     Clark had just started carefully pouring more batter onto the waffle iron. At Lois' "innocent" suggestion, his attention wandered over to her, for the first time taking in the low cut baby doll nightie she wore, which showed off a good bit of her chest, the entire length of her legs, and a hint of frilly panties beneath -- he was fairly sure she hadn't been wearing it last night -- but then he didn't think she'd been wearing much of anything last night. At that moment, the stream of batter wandered off the iron and onto the counter.

     "Clark! Watch out, you're..." Lois gestured, giggling. She loved occasionally disrupting his concentration.

     Blushing, Clark forced his attention back to the waffle iron. He finished filling it, and closed the lid to let it bake. He poked around in the grocery bag, and pulled out a bottle of maple syrup, heating it quickly with his eyes. He poured a generous amount over the buttered waffle on the plate, and walked over to where Lois still sat on the flour-dusted counter.

     "Do you want some of this waffle?" he asked in a mock- severe tone.

     Lois ducked her head, peeking at him through her lashes. "Yes," she said in a tiny voice.

     "Then you'd better behave yourself, hadn't you?"

     "Yes." Her lips were quivering with the effort to keep a straight face. Clark stared at her mouth, his breath suddenly ragged. When the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, he almost dropped the plate. He leaned in and kissed her, and although her lips were still quivering, it was suddenly not from an urge to laugh.

     After a moment, she pushed him away. "Can I have a bite of your waffle?" she whispered.

     "Huh?" Clark seemed a little dazed. "Oh... yeah." He laughed, a little shakily, embarrassed by his total loss of concentration. He cut a bite-sized piece of waffle, speared it with the fork, and pushed it through the syrup to coat it well. Too well, actually. Just before it got to Lois' mouth, a drop slid off and landed on her chin, followed immediately by another. They promptly rolled her neck, leaving sticky trails behind them. Clark got a mischievous glint in his eye. /Two can play the concentration-disruption game,/ he thought. He fed Lois the bite of waffle, then dipped his head down to lick the syrup off her neck.

     She shivered against him, promptly forgetting the waffle in her mouth. Her moan had a muffled sound to it. He looked up at her, grinning in triumph, and chucked her lightly under the chin. "Chew, dear," he advised. "It'll go down easier."

     She laughed, a little chagrined, and chewed obediently. Then she sighed in contentment as she swallowed. "Delicious," she said, staring deep into her husband's eyes. She opened her mouth for him to feed her another bite, savoring the taste as he took a bite, too. "Smells like the next one's about ready."

     He handed her the plate and fork. "I think you're right." He got out another plate and opened the waffle iron, getting a faceful of steam. "Hmm, not quite. Can I have another bite of yours while I wait?"

     "Sure." She cut a bite as he came over, dipped it in the pool of syrup and held it up. She deliberately held it high so he would tilt his face up, and made sure a drop of syrup hit his chin before the waffle went in his mouth. After all, she wanted something to lick up too.

     Clark barely tasted the waffle, swallowing convulsively as her tongue cleaned his chin and wandered around to his ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the plate tilting precariously in her hand. He grabbed it just before the waffle slid off onto the floor, getting syrup all over his thumb in the process.

     "Oh, look, now you're all sticky," Lois chided him. She took the plate back from him and set it down. "I would have thought Superman would be neater than that." She took his syrup covered thumb in her mouth and sucked gently, flicking her tongue all around it to clean off the syrup.

     Clark began to laugh shakily. He gently pulled his hand away from her.

     "Cla-ark!"

     "One second." In a flash, he unplugged the waffle iron, removed the mostly baked waffle, and returned to Lois. "The smell of burning waffle can be *so* distracting -- and I did *not* want to be distracted right now," he said, nuzzling her neck.

     "Good point."

     "Do you remember why we chose this apartment?" Clark asked, his lips brushing the sensitive spot right below her ear.

     Lois was puzzled by the apparent change in topic. "The walk-in closets?"

     "No, silly, the kitchen counters." Clark was working his way down to her shoulder now.

     "The kitchen..?" memory suddenly dawned "..counters!"

           They had looked at half a dozen apartments, and there
           seemed to be something wrong with every one of them.
           Finally the apartment-finder agent showed them one with
           large walk-in closets, a nice view, good neighborhood,
           reasonable rent...

           They stood at the door, and Lois was about to tell the
           agent they would take it, when Clark suddenly said,
           "Oops, almost forgot -- gotta check one thing!" He
           turned to the agent. "Would you excuse us one
           moment?"

           "Clark, what are you doing?" Lois asked as he took her
           hand and led her into the kitchen.

           She was even more mystified when he tilted his head to
           one side, staring at the kitchen counters. Suddenly he
           picked her up and perched her on one of the counters.
           He nudged her knees apart, and as he slipped between
           them to kiss her, she suddenly realized that the
           kitchen counters were perfect.

     "We haven't yet gotten around to using the counters, have we?" she grinned now. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, locking her ankles behind his back, and sighed as his lips found hers, "Oh, yes, these counters are just right!"

     He pulled back after a moment to smile at her. "Hey, am I good at choosing apartments or what?" He brushed her hair out of her face with a tender gesture.

     "Oh, you're just.. mm! super.." she gasped as he brushed a kiss across her eyelids.

     He promptly pulled away again to look at her in mock disgust. "And how long am I going to have to put up with *that* particular joke?"

     "Oh, not long," she responded, drawing his mouth back down to hers. "Just the next 50 or 60 years.." As his lips once again made their way around to her ear, she stroked her hands across his shoulders, relishing the strength of the man who kept her safe and held her heart.

     He grinned, dropping his lips to her shoulder and pushing the strap out of his way. "Oh, is that all? That I can stand."

     And as he made sweet love to her, right there in the kitchen, she knew that, oh yeah, these kitchen counters were perfect.

fade to black

Author's Note: (September, 1996) Ok, I was at work, feeling a little depressed about the story I just wrote, a pretty dark story, full of WHAMs, and decided I needed to lighten up a bit, write a nice WAFFy little story. I had a funny thought, and the rest just sort of evolved from there...

Thanks to Piper for one particularly good line borrowed from her story "The Heir: Return".

If you like this story, I'd like to hear about it -- you know authors thrive on feedback! Write to me at Peace9@worldnet.att.net .

Copyright 1996 Peace Everett