Masquerade

   Having chosen the spider as my dance partner, the snake slithered off to a corner and dropped down on a folding chair. The innkeeper sitting one seat over objected, and by way of making her feeling known, stood, stomped her foot, and marched across the room. A scrap of streamer that had fallen from the paper web decorating the ceiling caught on the heel of her shoe. She looked like a frumpy old woman who has inadvertently pulled a piece of toilet paper out of the ladies with her, and--though I had more than enough to attend to with the eight-legged spider in arm--I laughed.

She whirled in the direction of my injudicious jingle.

Stomp. Stomp. She stopped. She frowned. Put her hands on her hips.

She reminded me of a connect-the-dots puzzle as she dodged annoyances that popped up in her path.

"I do apologize, dear lady," I said and bowed.

She spat words in my direction that sounded like my dog when he is choking on a mouthful of hair. I had no idea what she had said, so I smiled, bowed again, and turned back to the spider. "May I have this dance?" I said.

She nodded, and her pedipalps jiggled on top of her head.

"I like a waltz," I said, "don't you?"

As I hoped she agreed and her pedipalps wiggled once more. I nearly had to cross my legs with the thrill of it, but we were waltzing, bodies separated by inches, her eyes fixed on mine; and I was safe enough. Her cephalothorax and abdomen were voluptuous, but her pedicel was tight and trim enough. I suspected I might find her pleasing enough in bed. Still, there was the matter of personality. The snake had not slithered off in a hissy fit simply because I'd chosen the spider over her. We'd danced before. She had wrapped around me in a most delightful way, but she was suspicious and easily startled into striking, fangs dripping poison. How was I to tell if the lady spider suffered from an equally venomous nature?

I leaned forward and flicked my tongue into her ear. To my delight, she shivered. "I believe I have offended the innkeeper," I said. "Would you mind if I invited her to dance by way of apology?"

Her pedipalps tickled my cheek. "Not at all," she said. "Take your time." Two of her lovely eight legs slipped softly over my hands.  She brushed my lips with her pedipalps.

My mouth went dry as I watched her spin away. I bowed and blew her a kiss.

When my spider had disappeared into a corner of the room clouded with shadow, I swept the room, looking for the frumpy innkeeper with the scrap of streamer caught on her shoe. A shimmering reflected off the dance ball caught her scouring the room, and I approached.

We swirled around the room for two, three, then four dances. Her shoulders were as wide and hard as a ditch digger's. Her jaw was square. Her eyes steady and penetrating. We stamped out the rhythms--waltz, tango, foxtrot, tango. What better way to illumine the heart of my intended? If the spider smiled in my direction after all of this, I would be hers, for tonight at least. To remind her where my heart lay, I winked each time the frumpy innkeeper and I swirled past.

Breathless at the end of the fifth dance--a rumba--I kissed the hand of my partner. "I must rest," I said. "Your company has been delightful."

For the first time she smiled.

I led her to a seat and snuck off to a deserted corner to assess my prospects. I am drawn to the delicate, but the innkeeper intrigued me with her confident gaze and sure step. I swept a glass of wine from a passing tray and considered my prospects. I am fickle, I admit. The tight and trim pedicel had won my heart.

Staying to the dark perimeters of the grand ballroom, I made my way to the corner where I had let my love skitter into darkness. Her sudden appearance took my breath away. She grasped my hand and led me toward her lair. Light headed and giddy from the wine and dance, I fell into her bed.

I opened my arms, spread out my legs like an invitation.

She pounced on top of me, saliva dripping from her mouth.

I wrapped my arms around her and rolled us over. My knees pressed into her pedicel. I set my arms to either side of her cephalothorax. "Take off your mask," I said. My voice rustled like wind in aspen. I leaned forward to take my prize.

 The spider adjusted her position. I collapsed onto her slick, round belly, and air rushed out of her. She kissed my forehead.

The innkeeper sunk her jaws into my neck.

My limbs splayed as though struck with lightning. I felt her poison mingled with my blood.

"We are done with you," the innkeeper said and laughed.

"You will live on," the spider said and touched her belly.

"Is that to be my comfort?" I gasped.

"As you choose," the innkeeper replied.

"Let me see your face," I said to the spider.

The spider took off her mask.

She was as beautiful as I had imagined.