By Katy Turton
Tonight has to be just right. She’s a special one and gorgeous as all hell. So it’s got to be right. I’ve tidied the flat and changed the bed. Put on my best sheets. Well, the newest ones at least. Even asked Mum how to clean the bathroom and gave it a proper go.
I don’t recognise the place. I’d post a proud picture on Instagram, except that she’d see it and think I’m daft. Not that I mind her laughing at me. Anything to hear that wicked cackle of hers. But I don’t want her laughing about tonight. She’s a smart one, she’s got her life together, and I want to measure up. I want to be a man tonight, not a boy who asks his mum stuff.
I’ve got the right body at least. All those hours in the gym do pay off. I’m fit and strong and I know how to look good. I know what I’m wearing tonight. Nothing over the top – it’s just drinks and if it all goes to plan, back to mine for coffee – but do I want to stop her in her tracks, get her heart going a bit. And other places.
She does it to me all the time. That smile she gives me when we share a private joke at work or that day when I caught her bent over the paper tray of the photocopier. I get shivers just thinking about it. The first time she suggested we go out for a drink, I was still grinning like an idiot at my desk two hours later.
We’ve been dating for a few weeks now. A few really good weeks and tonight I think we’ll be ready. I’ve never clicked with someone like this and I’m sure it’s the same for her. It’s time to take the next step.
I don’t want this to be any old shag though. I want it to be good. I want it to be good for her. I’m gonna take more time on her than I’ve ever done, really get to know her body. I want to be the best guy she’s ever had. She’s far and away the best woman I’ve ever had and I know that just from kissing her.
I am ready. My body is mature and at its peak, but it tingles with newness. It is heavy with promise and urgent longing. I am ripe and fertile.
I know he’s been waiting for my signal. I have felt him watching me, found myself moving for him, so he can admire my legs, my round belly. I catch his scent from time to time and it inflames me. It makes me want to do things that have never occurred to me before and now I cannot think of anything else. I am vividly aware of spaces inside me and their purpose. Tonight I will open myself up to him. I will spread my legs wide and let him plant himself in me.
I will lay a trail for him, so that he knows I want him and he will come to me, unable to resist. I want him to dominate me. He must give himself over to his natural inclination, to the male imperative to take, and he must be willing to give his life to do it.
We will move together in a dance that has been done this way for millennia. We will spin magic together and create new life. He will give me the offspring that I crave. After that, he can go for I will have no further use for him. I will bring forth new life and nurture my children alone. Through them I will live forever.
He has watched her for weeks and knows her body intimately. He has seen it grow and develop. Yesterday he realised she had changed for the last time. She has always been beautiful and graceful, as she does her delicate work, but now she is magnificent. And ready.
She has all the power, is dangerous even, but that makes him want her even more. He has been waiting too long for this to give up now. When he catches her scent he can hardly contain himself. His desire for her fills his whole body and gives him such strength. He could run for days to reach her.
Tonight she will call him to her and he will go, tiny before her radiant female form. It is a terrifying thought, but his fear will not stop him. Whatever the risks, he knows that when he stands before her, he will be able to tame her.
It does not matter that it will only be for one night. It will be worth it to see her lay down willingly before him, her legs held wide, her body opening for him. She will have to wait, helpless and wanting, vulnerable with need, while he readies himself. Then he will push his seed into the dark, softness inside her, relentless, as he rubs up against her. At the last, he will watch her fold herself around his precious gift, cherishing it, joining it to her eggs.
Whatever happens next, even if he dies, it will be his offspring that live on. She may care nothing for him after tonight, but she will love his children.
He cannot wait any longer. He must find her. Suddenly frantic, he casts about for a sign of her. Where is she? Wait. There it is. Her scent. She has left a trail and he must follow it.
He begins to run.
He’s nervous as he unlocks the door, fumbling every so slightly with the key. She smiles tenderly behind him. He has been different tonight – his clothes, the vulnerability in his eyes that he is doing his best to hide and the energy thrumming in him. She knows what he wants. She wants it too, but has never been this delightfully unsettled about it before. Their usually easy conversation began lapsing towards the end of their second drink for somehow neither one of them could speak the words that should have been said. I want you. I love you.
He leads her into the living room and they stand facing each other. She wishes the light wasn’t quite so bright. She takes a step towards him and sees that he is trembling.
‘It’s only me,’ she says, to calm him, but finds that her own smile flutters nervously. She decides to let him make the first move and tries to tell him with her eyes that she is his.
He searches her face and she watches him make his decision. He moves towards her, cups her face in his hands and kisses her, softly at first then more insistently. She takes hold of his shirt to keep him close, as he puts his lips to her neck. She relaxes into him and knows she will give him all of herself.
As she closes her eyes, she catches sight of something black and large moving fast across the floor. She can’t help herself. Her knees dissolve in phobic fright and she lets out a most embarrassing shriek.
He jumps with shock. Turns and sees the spider tearing across the floor. He looks about wildly for something to kill it with, grabs a newspaper and smacks it down hard on the horrible creature.
He gives an involuntary shudder as he makes a weak joke about the land speed record and she realises he’s as afraid of spiders as she is. She offers to clean up the mess, but he won’t hear of it. Not wanting to hover over him, she goes to the bathroom.
As she washes her hands she notices that he has put a scented candle on the window sill and bought a new hand towel, its plastic tag hanging uncut from the label. That decides it.
She lets instinct take over. She strips and moves, quietly, naked to his bedroom. She slips under the covers and a thrill of anticipation sparks through her. He’ll find her in a moment.
I sit on my beautiful web, spun with extra care for the occasion, but he does not come. I do not understand. I laid my trail so carefully. Surely he must follow it soon. I ache for him. And wait.
Katy is a Visiting Research Fellow at Queen’s University, Belfast, specialising in Russian and Soviet history. I have published two works of history: one on Lenin’s sisters and one on family networks in the Russian revolutionary movement. I live in Grantown on Spey, Scotland, with my family, and of late have been trying my hand at novel and creative writing.