"My parents are dead."
Clakr's hands still briefly on the buttons of Lana's shirt. Not quite enough to completely turn him off--he's sixteen, after all, and gets hard watching paint dry these days--but almost enough to make him draw back and reconsider.
But. The Bra. A stepping stone toward manhood, or something like that, and though Lex had couched it in vaguely Greek terms involving wrestling, but Clark thinks he understands. This is what you have to do. Second base. Undo the bra. He can do this. He is *not* going to be the only sophmore in the world never to touch a girl's breasts. Just. Not happening.
"I wish they were here," Lana sighs, stretching out a little more on the couch and now making it almost impossible to get to the hooks in the back. Dammit. And if Lana's parents were here, the chances are really good he would not be trying out the latest in clothing removal, and how again did Lex say to do this? Right. Okay. Shirt unbuttoned. Good. White cotton bra. Dammit. Hoped for red. Long, flat golden stomach. Pretty. Breasts. Right there.
Just encased in what might as well be armor until he figures out how to get her up so he could do the unfastening and officially say yes, I've been to second base!
Lana sighs again and shifts flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling as if she sees a meteor coming to earth. No way to get to the clasp.
"I miss my parents."
There's a really good chance Clark Kent is going to die a virgin at this rate.