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ஈக்கள் ஒரு புதிய தொட்டியில் திரண்டு வருவதில்லை.

Tamil proverb

I am a spider, and I am dangerous. Yet, for some reason, flies appear in my life. Usually I only have to make a minor effort squashing them.

Once I even had a fly come to at me, and at first I let her go. I had just come off a twenty hour flight – well, with a six hour lay-over in some Arabian desert where even the flies hide in tents. The only thing I wanted was a bed. But first I had to eat and shower. I had flown a long way towards the equator and was once again in a very warm and humid nation. Being in the middle of the ocean didn’t help of course.

Fresh off the cool plane, ten minutes outside made me hot and sweaty in an unappreciative way. Believe me, in the right circumstances, being hot and sweaty is a state I’d aim for instead of avoid. By the time I landed in Colombo I was old and experienced enough to say that I enjoyed getting hot, sweaty and naked with someone.

But not just yet. The waitress in the hotel-restaurant I’d picked, tried to get my attention straight away. She was cute. Chestnut skin, long black hair reaching all the way down her perfectly arched back to where her buttocks were hiding under her white wide but slightly too short skirt. She served me bending over the table, allowing me a good look onto her small and firm breasts – not kept in place by a bra. At the time I had no idea how culturally inappropriate this was; at the time I was even too tired to act upon the hint. I appreciated the view of her dark nipples rubbing her hotel-supplied T-shirt, sure. But I first went to bed.

The next morning she was wearing a plain, bright blue dress. It closed tightly around her neck, fit neatly across her shoulders and female curves to leave no room for doubt about her beauty. From her hips down, the dress widened to fall loosely around her bare legs, carried by simple black pumps. The simplicity of her attire made her more attractive; I remember thinking that with a dress like this, she needn’t take anything off to straddle naked me.

Together with my breakfast, she slipped me a note, saying that she would have time to show me the sights between 11:00 and 17:00. While I was aware that only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day sun, in this part of the world, I replied simply with ‘please’.

It was 11:05 when she knocked on my room door, took my hand and was so forward to kiss me. I knew then that I was no longer a new pot. A fly came swarming on its own!

So the first sight I saw was her naked body, which felt as good as it was beautiful. She then showed me all corners of the bed, and between wet and juicy orgasms we even landed on the hart tiled floor. As far as my experience went, it was an oddly boring session, as there were no hands or mouths involved in pre-coital stimulation. She still quivered like a feather in a spring breeze at least three times while she reached for the stars.

Yeah, the sex was alright. Seeing the sights around town was less than alright. Not because of the sights. They were exotic enough. And I soon figured out I caught one of the prettier flies in the city. And she knew it; and she demanded maintenance. And, on top of that, she started telling total strangers we were engaged, even though I still had trouble pronouncing her name. I got sick of it, so I pushed her in front of a speeding bus.

There was a sickening thud as her head exploded on the windshield, and with the smell of burning rubber from screaming tyres around me, I got in a cab in the opposite direction. I asked to be taken to a tattoo shop. I’m sure by now, you know why.

For I am a spider, and I kill flies. Some last less than a day, some a little longer, and I’m not even always on the hunt. But if you find me talking to you: run. If you don’t, sooner or later you’ll be a fly tattooed on my shoulder – the shoulder away from my red-back spider.