#Twelve

Tags

fly, Germany, murder, pornography, redback, spider, tattoo, Uckersee

Spinnerin am Morgen
bringt Kummer und Sorgen.
Spinnerin am Abend
bringt Glück und Gaben.

German poem

<Skipped the beginning>

By morning, reality caught up with me, and this spinster turned into a sour partner. She picked up her phone, scrolled through her Instagram account. When she showed me the screen, I knew I had fucked up. I was looking at myself, back in Bosnia. And it was the last picture her friend had posted.

I got up from the bed, went into the bathroom to take a leak, and I silently underwent the questions she fired at me. I pulled the hair dryer from the wall and went back into the bedroom. That is when she asked me if I was the perp from the news from Szczecin.

As I pulled the electric wire tight around her neck, I told her the truth. I told her that she would be turned into a fly tattoo on my arm. Because I am a spider, and I kill flies. Especially the ones that are a nuisance; those buzzing around my head with annoying questions.

Als je het hele hoofdstuk wil lezen, in het Nederlands, bestel het boek Bekentenissen van mijn leven als spin hier.

If you want to read the entire chapter, order the book Confessions of my life as a spider here – it’s shipping world wide.

#Four

Tags

bus, fly, murder, pornography, spider, Sri Lanka, tattoo

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.

Als je de rest wil lezen, in het Nederlands, bestel het boek Bekentenissen van mijn leven als spin hier.

If you want to read the rest of this chapter, order the book Confessions of my life as a spider here – it’s shipping world wide.

#Three

Tags

fly, murder, pornography, schoolgirl, spider, tattoo, Turkey

Anlayana sivri sinek saz anlamayana davul zurna az.

Turkisch proverb

I am a spider. I have killed quite a few flies without casting a web. You see, I’m dangerously aggressive, I usually don’t need any intricate representations to get what I want. Therefore: when I talk to you, run, and you may live.

There was this one time, I found myself in Ankara. And yes, after my African stint, I did explore this country quite extensively. I’ve seen Doğubeyazıt, I’d seen İzmir, but nowhere did I encounter the kind of girls I saw in Ankara, and one in particular.

The first time I saw her, she was in a school uniform. White blouse, chequered skirt a few inches above the knee, black leather boots an inch below the knees, raven black wavy hair halfway down her back, bright red lips and runny mascara.

I asked her what was wrong, and she told me her boyfriend had left her after a couple of wild nights. To be sure – the school uniform worried me – I had to ask her age. I was an adult by then, and didn’t want to end up a paedophile in a Turkish dungeon. Eighteen – she was still in school because she had paid more attention to boys than to grades. So I thought I was going to be the rebound boy once again. Her appearance had most certainly given that desire.

We talked for a long time, and even though I tried to buzz like a fly – and she got my message about emotional connection and the need for understanding, I may as well have been screaming my desire through a clarion. She didn’t bite.

She said I was a wise man for my age, kissed me on the cheek and went into her home. I was already going in after her, when she shut the door in my face. I knew then I had to cast a web to catch this fly.

I did. I sweet-talked, presented and flattered her for two days before I first touched her naked body. No, she wasn’t naked; for some reason she insisted on wearing socks.

It didn’t matter. I was only the second man to be with her, so I first kissed her passionately, while I hugged and caressed her ever so gently. I let my hands go through her perfectly groomed shiny hair, I explored her back and gained the first delighted moan when I held her firm buttocks in my hands, my little finger slowly moving towards what matters.

Als je de rest wil lezen, in het Nederlands, bestel het boek Bekentenissen van mijn leven als spin hier.

If you want to read the rest of this chapter, order the book Confessions of my life as a spider here – it’s shipping world wide.