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Thai proverb

I am a spider. Beware: I am a dangerous spider. Beware, for real, though, I don’t just kill flies. The red-back on my shoulder has enough poison to hurt a human too. So when I strike up a conversation: kill it; run, hide. Don’ t let me find you again. The flies on my other shoulder are testimony to the ones who failed to run.

No, apparently I don’t just kill flies. I kill mosquitoes too. While I am always a little disappointed to see a fly go, I’m quite pleased with myself that I managed to kill a mosquito. Man, they are a pest; a mosquito is more dangerous than a tiger. Trust me; this one was a handful.

I’d been single for a few years, travelling and working South East Asia, before finding a spot in Chiang Rai to settle down – for a while. I’d been to Chiang Rai in the beginning of my South East Asian stint, as I came down on a bus from China. I didn’t dare going any further north, but the mountain air pleased me.

In the years that had passed, ADSL had become a thing, but hadn’t made it to Chiang Rai just yet. The sewers were still being built there. In that time, I took up a job teaching English in a weekend school.

And that’s where I met her. She was in one of my classes. She was a metre fifty tall, had dyed her hair brown, with blond highlights. At age 27, only a year younger than myself at the time, she still wore what I’d come to know as a university uniform: black shoes, tight black skirt and a spotless white buttoned up shirt bursting around her fake breasts. I knew they were fake from the moment I met her, as no human is built that disproportionately.

Her reason for learning English was simple, and she was honest about it: “I am a prostitute, and I want to be able to talk to my targets.” She told me that in English littered with Thai words and a piss-poor pronunciation. “An(d) I alway saleep wit(h) teachah”.

Despite my history, her profession kind of put me off. But she was more persistent than my resistance, so a few weeks into the course we spent an hour in a hotel that charged rooms by the hour. She showed me she was good at her job: she had no interest in enjoying herself, but was very eager to finish me off. Once we were naked and I’d confirmed tactilitly that her breasts were fake, she pushed me on my back. She sucked till I got hard, put on a condom and some lubricant, put me in her hairless pussy and rode me till I almost came. Then she pulled away the condom and deepthroated me dry; swallowing it all.

And that was it. She got up, said “See you neck(t) lesson, teachah”, and left. No relationship. No issues, no bugging. I was stunned. I’d never got away this clean. Or so I thought. But I soon started to hear the incessant buzzing.

The next week she did it again. This time, once I was inside of her, I took charge and went at it doggy-style. I pumped, she moaned. I pushed, she screamed. I thrusted, she bit the pillow – not from pleasure, she told me after I’d filled the jimmy-hat, but to help her endure it. I’d forgotten lubricant.

This went on for a month, after which she phoned me to tell me she would tell my boss what we’d been doing if I wouldn’t pay for her lessons. So I did the sensible thing to avoid being blackmailed, and confessed to my boss myself. To my surprise, my boss wasn’t the least bit upset! He started laughing and told me the first time she enrolled, she wasn’t a woman yet.

Well, damn. I phoned him back and said I’d pay for class as long as our weekly sessions continued. He agreed, and the next time we met, I was prepared. After I let him suck me hard – for that was our routine – I pretended to want doggy style – and asked for anal. He agreed; the fool. For I had lubricant and a sharpened stick which I stuck fast and hard up his arse, till the tip hit something hard; a bone somewhere. His colarbone, perhaps? I really wouldn’t know – I am not a doctor. But it most certainly first went through something vital as his body went limp and soundless in less than a minute. The efficiency of this method surprised me; there was almost no blood, little mess.

I left the hotel which I’d paid in cash, got on a bus to Chiang Mai, and got – between the flies – a mosquito tattoo.

For I am a spider, and I do not just kill flies. But kill I do, and pray you stay out of my clutches.