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Scarlett backed away and sat down again. She didn't take her
eyes from the spider until they reached the next station and
commuters flooded in. She lost sight of it behind someone's
head, and when she sat down it was no longer visible. She
kept scanning the graffiti and the window below it, avoiding
eye contact with the other passengers, but she couldn't find
the spider again. She tried to ignore her growing
arachnophobia.
"Something caught your attention," the person opposite her
observed.
Scarlett dropped her eyes from the stylised labia to the
floor of the train, skimming over the woman who had spoken.
She had twisted to see what Scarlett was looking at, and
Scarlett felt a bright blush light up her face.
"There was a spider," she mumbled.
"Poor thing," the woman replied. Her accent had a foreign
drawl to it Scarlett couldn't place, but it tightened her
stomach and sent shocks of heat between her legs. "That
doesn't look like it's the only thing on your mind, though,"
the woman said.
Scarlett realised that this was going to be one of those
rare conversations with a stranger that one actually
enjoyed. She was forced to look at the woman opposite, and
did so with a rising blush. Long legs in seamed stockings
lead to round thighs, wide hips and a slim waist. A classic
brown velvet dress cut low, backless and off the shoulder,
flaunting cleavage-inclined breasts. Forties style red lips
pouted and short, black, wavy hair framed a round face.
Scarlett met her eyes.
"I'm late to see my grandmother," Scarlett found herself
saying, thankful that her mouth was more reliable than her
treacherous skin. "It's her birthday, and I haven't even had
time to get a card."
"I know a good shop," the woman said. "I buy all my gifts
there. It's very close to the next station."
Scarlett tried to imagine what kind of gifts a woman like
her bought, and who on earth for. That someone like Scarlett
could afford, she reminded herself, and firmly quashed the
creeping notion that maybe women like the stranger bought
gifts for women like Scarlett, and that women like Scarlett
would do nigh on anything in gratitude.
These were not the kind of thoughts to take to her
grandmother's.
"It seems like she already has everything," Scarlett
stammered. "We all do our best to keep her happy and
comfortable."
"I'll bet." The woman smiled, white teeth just visible. "She
in one of those special apartments? Good places, those, with
the emergency cords and everything built in. Been visiting
myself."
Scarlett didn't know what to say to that.
"My grandmother is the only one on the top floor," she said
awkwardly. "She has a nice view."
"Yes, it is good, isn't it?"
The train began to slow, the windows lightening with the
approaching station.
"Thanks for the tip about the shop," Scarlett said. "I'll go
and... and check it out."
"Good," said the woman. "I hope it doesn't take you too
long."
Scarlett frowned.
"Because you're late, aren't you?" The woman graced her with
another smile. Scarlett felt her legs go weak and wasn't
sure she'd be able to rise and leave the train.
When she finally stumbled up to street level her arousal had
dissipated into the exquisite nervousness that accompanied
seeing her grandmother. She was already late, but the idea
of arriving without any kind of a gift seemed to compound
her rudeness, and she searched desperately for the
recommended shop.
She didn't know this part of the city well, though it bore
the same dingy, run-down look as her grandmother's stop. She
couldn't see any shops as she wandered through the streets.
She ducked down an unpromising alley, intending to make a
quick check before returning to the underground station in
defeat. It opened out into a small square, backed onto by
two apartment buildings. She would have assumed the door
opposite her belonged another residential block, but there
was an awning over it reminiscent of a foreign market stall
and the blacked out window was painted with a Cyrillic name.
She pushed open the door, confident solely because the
stranger had been, and was greeted with the warm smell of
gingerbread. The shop was dark and her eyes took a moment to
adjust, but slowly the points of light resolved themselves
into candles and lanterns and the room revealed itself.
She could have spent hours amongst the homemade furnishings
and exotic ornaments. She ran fingers across tables swathed
in velvet and fondled strange ceramic pots. Wind chimes over
the door provided the main soundtrack for the shop, but she
thought she could hear birds somewhere out of sight.
A clock chimed the hour and she closed her hand around the
nearest object reflexively, paying attention only to the
price label. She dug her wallet from her bag and looked
around for someone to pay.
"Hello? I'm terribly sorry, but I'm in a hurry, if there's
anyone available." She couldn't even see a till to pay at,
and if it wasn't for the price tag she might have thought
she was in someone's house.
"I have the correct money," she called out. "I, um. I'm
going to leave it here, okay?" Though she didn't think
anyone could hear her, she felt better describing her
actions aloud. "I'm leaving a note too."
Scarlett scribbled on an old receipt, described her purchase
- a broach, enamelled with a bouquet of wild flowers - and
left the money on top of it. She fled the shop and down the
alley. Diving into the nearest underground station, she sped
through the barriers and leapt onto a train on the verge of
departing.
It wasn't until they reached the next station she realised
her mistake. This was not the line to her grandmother's; in
fact, Scarlett barely recognised any of the stations on it.
She squeezed between the closing doors and onto the platform
only to find a sign announcing that due to works on the line
only southbound trains were in operation. It made no sense
to her, but she duly boarded the next train and waited
helplessly until they reached a station she knew. She
changed lines twice more, constantly hampered by delays and
cancellations, and eventually made it back to the train
she'd started on. The vaginal graffiti was like an old
friend now.
Scarlett reached her grandmother's apartment almost three
hours late and wasn't surprised to find that most of the
party had already dispersed. Not many of her family could
stand the old woman for long. She passed a cousin on the
stairs who didn't respond to her breathless greeting. She
was glad now she'd bought the broach, even if it was
responsible for her tardiness.
The door to the apartment was unlocked. Scarlett pushed it
open with one hand still clenched around the broach. She
wished she bought something to wrap it in.
"Grandma? It's Scarlett, Ethel's daughter." It helped to
specify these days.
"I'm in the bedroom." She sounded frailer that last time
Scarlett visited.
"I'm going to take my shoes off," Scarlett called back. "Do
you want a cup of tea or anything?"
"No, thank you, dear. I'm afraid I'm very tired, so if you
would come straight in, I would like that very much."
She seemed confused about who was visiting; Scarlett had
never deserved a 'dear' before.
The bedroom door was open, but as Scarlett entered it swung
shut behind her. Her grandmother wasn't in bed.
"Grandma?"
"Hello, Scarlett."
She spun around. Leaning against the wall, where she had
been stood behind the door, was the stranger from the train.
"What big eyes you have," the woman said.
Scarlett stumbled backwards, managing to make it around the
bed without falling. Her progress was halted by the window,
and she remembered just how high up her grandmother's
apartment was. The stranger hadn't moved.
"What have you done with Grandma?" Scarlett demanded.
The woman sashayed towards her. She stepped onto the bed,
balance unfazed by the yielding mattress, and kept coming,
heels sinking into the handmade counterpane. She stood over
Scarlett on the edge of the bed, one hand on her hip, the
other touching her lips.
"I ate her all up," she said. "And now I'm going to eat
you."
The woman hopped down from the bed, wriggling her shoulders
so her dress dropped to her waist. She slipped a leg between
Scarlett's, pressing up against her crotch. Scarlett's
nipples hardened in response to the pressure of the other's
breasts against hers. Scarlett took an involuntary breath,
lips parting. She moaned as that deceitful tongue took
advantage to slip into her mouth.
The woman's hands pressed against the window on either side
of her head and Scarlett was distantly aware that her
grandmother's neighbours could see everything. The woman
pulled back, a string of saliva connecting them, and
Scarlett stared into her dark eyes. The pupils were echoed
in two black dots underneath each and a slightly larger just
above. The woman was smiling at her.
Scarlett tried to remember why she was here, why she
shouldn't just kiss this stranger until they both ran out of
air. There was a bed so close, fresh sheets and chintzy
covers. Her grandmother's.
Her grandmother... her grandmother had probably been taken
out for dinner by her cousins. She must have just missed
them. That was all. The stranger had to be joking about
eating her.
"Who are you?" Scarlett breathed.
The woman cocked her head to one side, apparently
considering.
"Lycosida," she said. "Lyca. Call me that."
Lyca lowered her head for another kiss. Something tickled
the corners of Scarlett's lips. She parted them obediently,
abandoning herself to the sensation. Lyca withdrew her
tongue from Scarlett's mouth and moved her kiss to
Scarlett's jaw line, kissing her way down her neck, licking
her collarbone. Warm hands cupped Scarlett's breasts,
fondling them gently through her hooded sweater.
"I want to eat you up," Lyca murmured against Scarlett's
skin.
"Eat me?" Scarlett asked.
"Hah! Yes, but I didn't do this to your grandmother." Lyca's
wicked voice tickled the top of Scarlett's breasts even as
her hands reached down to Scarlett's pencil skirt. Dropping
to her knees, Lyca pushed up the skirt to ruck around
Scarlett's waist. Scarlett's briefs were white, translucent
with lust. Lyca put her mouth to the soft cotton and folded
it around her tongue, which slipped past to trace Scarlett's
hot lips.
Scarlett parted her legs and braced herself against the
window frame. Lyca's tongue retreated and her teeth closed
on Scarlett's underwear. Scarlett felt something tickle the
insides of both thighs, and her briefs came away with neat
cuts through the elastic. She didn't have time to even gasp
before the tongue was back, plunging between her fold and
fondling the interior lips. Scarlett's head fell back
against the window.
Though the angle was more than awkward Lyca took advantage
of it in ways Scarlett hadn't known were possible. She
teased her clitoris with controlled circles, Lyca's fingers
coming up to part Scarlett's folds.
Lyca's tongue slid down the silky flesh and thrust where
most needed. Scarlett was moved relentlessly towards
panting, throbbing orgasm. She squeezed her eyes shut and
her fingers squeaked on the cool glass.
Lyca's nose pressed against her clitoris as her tongue
worked inside. Scarlett's head fell forwards as she groaned,
the sound coming from somewhere so deep inside her it felt
like part of an alien biology, her diaphragm too simplistic
for such passion. The groan faded as her orgasm peaked. Her
whole body tightening into a silent breath of pleasure.
As the aftershocks rolled through her, teased to their
height by Lyca's gentle bites and kisses on her inner
thighs, Scarlett's knees gave way and she slumped to the
soft carpet. She leant back against the radiator, aware that
her dopey grin was probably inappropriate. Lyca's eyes were
bright and focused. She licked her lips with a predator's
delectation.
"What are you doing here?" Scarlett asked.
"I saw you on the train," Lyca replied, "and I just had to
have a taste."
"I should..." the diplomacy of sex seemed out of place here,
pressed against the wall of her grandmother's bedroom, a
stranger crouching between her exhausted knees.
Lyca smiled at her, bending in to kiss her neck again, hands
under the waist of Scarlett's sweater. She raised it until
it covered Scarlett's face, pulling it just high enough to
expose her mouth. Scarlett's vision was obscured by the dark
red material, her concentration focussed on the kiss alone.
Lyca's lips were moist with Scarlett's musky orgasm, her
tongue teasing Scarlett's taste buds. The kiss was long and
hard; Lyca did not break it even as she pulled Scarlett's
sweater free. She threw it to one side and unhooked
Scarlett's bra. Their breasts pressed together, Lyca's
larger but softer, and Scarlett felt a jump inside her as
their nipples brushed. Lyca sank her teeth into Scarlett's
bottom lip, tugging on it hard enough to make Scarlett
gasp. She lowered her head to kiss Scarlett's soft skin.
She supported her breast with one hand and delicately
flicked Scarlett's nipple with her tongue. Scarlett squirmed
under the attention, her skin flushing beneath Lyca's
experienced hands.
"Let me..." Scarlett began.
"No, let me," Lyca said firmly. She shifted between
Scarlett's knees, urging them further apart. Cool air dried
the saliva between Scarlett's legs. She felt open and
vulnerable, but the sensation was stimulating and heat
flooded her. She wanted to touch herself, but too much to be
able to tease herself the way she needed. Lyca, still calm,
seemed to recognise Scarlett's problem. With one hand she
caught both of Scarlett's wrists, holding them above her
head against the window.
Lyca's other hand did what she would not allow Scarlett to
do. Warm fingers parted throbbing folds, stroking them until
they were wet with Scarlett's own juices. They were long
fingers, slender, and Scarlett expected them to tease her
clitoris with the skills she knew they possessed. One finger
entered Scarlett, and then another. Scarlett groaned, hips
thrusting down on them. She was granted a third finger,
stretching her just a little. They reached deep insider her.
"Look at me."
Scarlett managed to focus on Lyca. Her refracted eyes were
so dark and full they no longer looked human. Lyca's smile
was lascivious, curved only at the corners. Her fingers
crooked inside Scarlett, a beckoning motion, and hit that
spot inside. Scarlett fought to keep her gaze locked on
Lyca's as she arched towards her. She'd only found that
place herself by accident before and it had never done this.
The stimulation inside her was gentle. Scarlett slide up and
down on those digits, eking every ounce of pleasure from
them. She rolled her hip. The firmer touch took her over the
edge. Everything inside her clenched, even her lungs
fighting her need to breathe. She gasped, mouth hanging
open, hair stuck by sweat to her face. She couldn't blink,
eyes on Lyca, still smiling at her.
Her muscles were overtaxed with pleasure, trembling with
fatigue. Though the sensations retreated, Scarlett found she
was still struggling to draw breath.
"You should relax," Lyca told her. "Your heart is pounding
so fast."
It was, thought Scarlett, but it didn't seem to be helping.
She felt more tired than after most orgasms, the usual
satisfied sleepiness replaced by a physical exhaustion she
wasn't used to. Lyca kissed her again, but her lips
struggled to respond. When Lyca pulled away her head drooped
uncontrollably, and she saw raised red bites decorating her
breasts and thighs.
"What have you done?" she slurred.
"Going to eat you all up," Lyca crooned.
Scarlett's vision was splitting into double, the edges
blurring and fading. Lyca's strange eyes became four, then
eight. Scarlett's lungs burned; her stomach contracted and
her heart stuttered. Now the pleasure was gone she could
feel the pain and wondered how she hadn't noticed before.
Though she could not raise her head she was aware in her
peripheral vision of something unfolding behind Lyca: long,
dark limbs with several joints. She allowed herself to fall
forwards into Lyca's arms, face to her round breasts. She
felt no more than a faint pressure as her consciousness
faded, and thanked the piercing jaws for their goodnight
kiss. |
