The Spider and the Fly
by AJ Mullican
Richard strode up the walkway, rife with anticipation. The ad online had been enticing, and he couldn’t wait to meet the woman of his dreams.
As he drew nearer and more details of the house’s décor registered in his mind he thought, “This must be one freaky chick!”
The house was dark and could only be described as “gothic chic.” Black turrets and grey scrollwork accents stood out in the quiet suburban neighborhood. In place of a picket or chain link fence was a neat row of polished iron chains connected by iron stakes topped with fleur de lis.
When he reached the front steps, he was greeted by an ornately-carved front door with a stained glass window patterned after a spider’s web. In place of a light next to the door, spindly iron fingers extended from the wall and grasped a lifelike carving of a skull. Red light bulbs illuminated the empty skull, casting an eerie glow over the black widow carapace that, judging by the size and location, must be the doorbell.
Pressing the red hourglass, Richard heard a scream of ecstasy inside the house. He grinned, thinking to himself that any woman with that kind of a doorbell must indeed be just the kind of companion he was looking for.
Through the stained glass he saw the voluptuous silhouette of a tall, curvy woman approach the door. When the door opened, he was not disappointed.
Standing just under his six foot height in her stiletto heels, the woman from the ad was everything he could have hoped for. Not too skinny, not too fat—just enough curves to look delicious. She answered the door in a racy negligee, its black leather straps matching the pattern in the stained glass, and he could see long nail caps on the ends of each of her delicate fingers, adding to the dramatic look. The ensemble was accented with carefully-applied spiderweb eyeliner on her upper lids.
“You must be Richard Fly,” she purred, her voice both soft and husky. “Welcome to my web.”
Richard smiled and stepped inside the door. As she closed it behind him, he removed his hat and trench coat. The woman turned back to him and screamed in terror.
She was even more stunning when viewed with all eight of his eyes. He grabbed her waist with two of his arms, pulling her in closer. Two more arms restrained her struggling arms, and the last pair caressed her cheeks.
“And you must be Ariadne. Pleasure to eat you.”