Ragno porta guadagno.
Italian proverb
I am a spider. A very dangerous one at that. If you don’t run, I kill, and then I run. And usually, after I run, I lay low for a while; I digest, so to speak. By the time we meet, though, assume I’m hungry.
The intermissions have usually been a time of reflection too. Don’t get me wrong, it was never a time of remorse. Regret is something I refuse to feel – I do what seems a good idea at the time. Reflect I do – how can I get out cleaner the next time? And one thing I figured out was, that I needed more money. For you needn’t fear a spider that brings money, right?
So I buried my spider and flies under a white collar and went into crime. There are two ways to get rich: organise gambling or go into banking. Either way, you need to be morally corrupt to make some real dough. As a spider, a moral conscience was not part of my baggage. What followed was the hatching of a plan, I put my savings together and executed it in the land of the free. I kept to myself, ignored all flies I encountered and was successful. Within five years I was offered three million dollars for one company.
An associate of mine, mr. Andretta, had told me a lot of nice things about his father’s home country, so with my pockets full of cash I returned to the continent I was born in. On the plane over the ocean, I was tempted to go back home, but time taught me I wasn’t ready for that yet. This spider brought his money to Italy, first.
Having had half a decade of work and no play, I’d been a dull boy; but I was done working and ready for a new fly. I was famished. It wasn’t a week later, that I bedded a beautiful yet not brand new Italian woman.
She’d obviously been around, and knew what she expected from her man. She was quick and to the point in telling me where and how to touch her; and what not to do. The first time I felt a little like a puppet on strings, but I quickly realised that this was her thing. She came so loud I was worried about the neighbours, a quarter mile away. Her orgasm came from deep within and the trembling continued for quite some time.
Once her first orgasm had abated, she started working my body. She deep-throated me thoroughly; I got so hard it hurt. Then she rode me showing impressive strength and stamina. It had been so long for me that I came like a pig; I worried I’d filled her up like a balloon!
Once we were done, panting, smiling and enjoying the intensity of the last orgasm, I reached down to take off the condom, put a knot in it and… I realised I’d forgotten to put one on. Making money had made me lose my edge. I’d really enjoyed the sex, and was looking forward to more of this, in a way. But a worry entered the back of my head.
When she confirmed she wasn’t on any contraceptive either, knowing the amount of jizz I’d left in her, I knew it was most likely I’d have to swat this fly soon.
When her hormone balance changed, the next week, and she started throwing up, I took my chance. While she was praying through the shitty telephone, I pushed her head into the bowl and flushed. She had strong legs and tried to use them, but I managed to stay out of reach. I slammed the seat down to the back of her neck so hard it cracked. I flushed again, and then she went still, but I still saw her pulse going in her neck. So I kept pushing down, and flushed as often as I could, for about ten minutes. That’s when I was sure her pulse had stopped.
The second time you carry a cold corpse through the woods, is less memorable than the first. All I remember now, is that, at the time, I thought of the first time, and realised there were few similarities. The only similarity I could think of, was that the next morning, I got myself a fly tattoo.
For I am a spider, and I kill flies. Not every day, not even every year. But I am a cold blooded killer, and while I commit this to paper in the chill of a spring evening, you should consider yourself lucky that we haven’t met. Yet.
