Yes, that was when it started, though he didn't realized for quite some time that things were different at work. He still made the deli runs, he still sharpened pencils and transfered office supplies. He was more frequently given copy to proof read, and he started doing research for Miss Lane and Mr. Kent.

Now when he made the deli runs Miss Lane always ordered a bottle of Dr. Brown's Red Cream soda. Whenever he brought the food into the newsroom, she'd stop whatever she was doing and sing out, "Here comes my red cream now!" Jimmy couldn't understand it. It was good, and all that, but she sure was enthusiastic. Oh well, anything that kept her happy, and she did seem to think it was mighty amusing, for some reason.

One day he realized that... well, she was touching him quite a bit. He wasn't even sure why he noticed it enough to think it was significant. It wasn't anything really... Well, it wasn't obviously offensive. She'd pat his hand or his arm when he brought her something. She was always straightening his bow tie, or collar. What made him realize that it might be a little out of the ordinary was the fact that Mr. Kent noticed it, too.

She was patting him on the shoulder after he'd brought in a bit of research, and Clark said casually, "Lois, maybe you should get a cat. That way you wouldn't keep mussing Jimmy up by petting him."

Lois stuck her tongue out at Clark. "He isn't complaining, is he?"

That idea surprised Jimmy. He could complain? Did he want to complain? Perhaps not. It wasn't really anything, was it? But Miss Lane stopped being so touchy-feely, at least when there was anyone else around. When they were alone, it was another matter.

He was proofing some copy for her--nothing important, a simple report on a city council meeting. Instead of working at her desk while he finished, she hovered behind him. "Did you get a haircut today, Jimmy?"

He glanced back at her. "Yeah. I was starting to get shaggy."

He went back to his copy, and Lois stood, staring at him. Jimmy had his jacket off, slung over the back of his chair. Since that embarresseing incident with the clinging damp shirt, he'd remembered to wear an undershirt every day. But his overshirt was thin, the white cloth sheer, and the undershirt was outlined beneath, stretched across his back. Lois could see the minute flex in the smooth muscles of his shoulders as his arms moved slightly, guiding his blue editor's pencil over her prose.

She stared at the strong column of his neck, stretching between his collar and the new penny sheen of his freshly cropped hair. The hairline at the nape of his neck was brutally straight and chopped off, but the bright red hair above it curled defieantly, and the skin below it was that beautiful redhead pale. The back of his neck was still lightly dusted with the talc the barber had smoothed on.

"Did he use the clippers?"

"Yeah, to clean up the neckline." He tried to concentrate on his work. This was an odd topic of conversation. It might not have been so strange if it was Mr. Kent. Guys DID discuss haircuts and barbers.

He shivered suddenly as a finger was drawn across the bare skin just above his collar. "You're smooth here." The finger ran just at his hairline in back. He could feel it brushing the minute stubble left by the clipper. The soft hair was made stiff by it's cutting. "But you're rough here." A stroke lower down. "Smooth." Tickling. "Rough."

"Miss Lane, you're tickling."

"Am I? Sorry about that." But the hand wasn't removed. Now she laid it flat across his nape and held it there. "Do you have a girlfriend, Jimmy?"

"Huh? Uh, no. Not a steady girl."

"Don't you date?"

"Sure, some. Not much,though, I'm awful busy with work and school. But sometimes I take a girl to one of the games, maybe go out for a hamburger."

"How about the movies? Don't you ever take a girl to the movies? Sit there in the dark," She squeezed, feeling the hard knob of his spine beneath the resilent pad of muscle. "Snuggle?"

Jimmy was blushing again. His face was turned away, but he blushed even to the tips of his ears, and Lois could see. She laughed softly. "C'mon, Jimmy, think of me as your big sister. You can tell me."

"There isn't anything to talk about, Miss Lane."

"You can call me Lois, Jimmy. That'd be more friendly, wouldn't it?"

"I guess so, Miss... I mean Lois. This is ready for Mr. White now." He prepared to push his chair back and rise. But Lois leaned forward and planted her hands flat on his desk, arms on either side of his body. Jimmy froze. He could feel the soft weight of her breasts pressing against his back.

He felt her breath on his ear, and she murmured. "You know, I worry about you, not having a girlfriend. That isn't healthy for a boy your age."

"It's not a problem, really. I need to take this in now."

She wasn't paying attention. "A boy your age has certain needs, certain appetites. Don't you ever get hungry, Jimmy?" She moved, and placed her hands flat on his chest, moving them in small circles. "I know I do."

Jimmy felt a wash of relief as he heard the outer door open. Lois stood up and took a quick backward step as Mr. Kent came into the room, hanging his hat on a hook near the door. Lois scowled. "Thought you had that pitcher interview today."

"He canceled. Jimmy, is that copy for Perry?" Jimmy nodded numbly. "Well, you'd better get it in to him." Grateful, Jimmy scooted his chair out and hurried toward the inner office. Behind him he could hear Mr. Kent saying "...looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. What kind of game are you playing?"

"What do you care?"

"Lois, don't do it. He's too young."

"He's a big boy."

"The opperative word is 'boy'. He's seventeen, and a young seventeen. Just lay off."

"Jimmy, you missed this," Perry White slashed a blue mark through a misspelling. "And this. What's gotten into you, boy You're not ususally this careless."

"Sorry, sir. I was... distracted."

"Try to concentrate, son."

"Yes sir."

It got worse.