The Spider and the Fly

I welcome him as a spider welcomes a fly -
lomging to be filled,
nourished on flesh.
I need only catch him,
to draw him into my web,
wrapping him in my silky sweetness that I may feast,
that I may drink of him.

Oh, the pleasure of the hunt,
the meticulous design of the snare,
strong and yet malliable,
it bends but seldom breaks....

Then the waiting,
anticipating the prey,
curious and playful (unsuspecting?)
now buzzing around me.
Innocent advances -
moving in, then away -
our eyes meeting,
a smile,
an unspoken word sending vibrations,
the slighest hint of desire rising toward a crescendo.

I draw him in slowly,
coy, teasing,
the predator pretending to be the prey.
I know the game.
I'm patient in my hunger.
He will come
and I will have him.

Moments pass as he circles,
coming close then moving away.
He senses the trap
even as I know he longs to be caught.
Then suddenly, he's upon me,
gentle vibrations playing upon the web I've (we've?) made.

Cautious and wary (afraid?)
he lands beside me,
his body leaning into mine,
his hand now gently resting on my thigh as he tells me his soon forgotten name.
And I know then that he'll be mine -
that I'll have him as surely as the spider will have the fly.
For with each breath,
he comes nearer to breathlessness
- to release; to the sweet pleasure of being captured, taken ...
consumed.

I pull him closer,
deeper into my web,
anticipating the taste of him -
the raw pleasure of feasting upon him -
this man I don't know,
this one I will have.
Already he's dancing on my strings -
caught -
blissfully (un)aware of what's to come,
hungry to fill me.

I move to him now,
gently, playfully,
my hand finding bare flesh
as he quivers ever so gently under my touch.
His desire now is only to be consumed;
He thinks of nothing beyond himself,
numb to all but my advances,
wrapped in my web,
longing to be my prey.
And I move in to taste him,
a soft whisper,
allowing my lips to steal across his skin
as I press in closer
bringing his body next to mine,
releasing to him my hunger.

Yes, I will have him -
I will dine on his flesh,
satiating my desire (and his).
Already I can taste it,
already he's mine.
The spider has the fly -
tantalizing and sweet -
and I will delight myself
until I want no more;
I will delight myself
then hunt
for (as is known) the spider needs the fly.