City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [114]
Did he feel as though he owned her? Wasn’t that what many people incorrectly felt in their relationships? He did not. He loved her as his equal. She was not a form of capital to him, not merely some proof of his skills. His greatest fear had been that she might not mentally accept her physical state, but she assured him she was not scarred at all, had not been vitiated, and never for one moment considered things that way. No, she was a rebuild, a new woman. Her expression softened when she discussed how proud she was of her present form. She said she adored her new abilities, adored Voland for giving them to her. Her kisses peppered his cheeks. Her old life was immolated so as to allow her to love herself fully.
She might not be all woman – but she was no freak either. She insisted she was more content with who she was now, much more than ever before. So Voland had slept well thereafter, knowing his work was complete.
*
Nanzi entered the bedroom wearing a towel around her waist. It haeen a long night and she now awaited Voland’s attention. He looked up from having thrown two extra logs on the fire, in the hope of injecting some more heat into the cold stone walls.
‘My dear . . .’ Voland took her hands in his. She was beautiful, this slender young woman, with her black hair shiny from dampness. Her breasts were small and delicate, the firelight making something defined from the neat angles of her face. ‘That was quite a catch you made tonight. You are certainly a wondrous young lady.’
Nanzi always seemed to like such words, some extra confirmation from him, never really tiring of his compliments. Hands clutching his wrists, she led him to the bed and began to undress him, first his shirt, then his breeches falling to the floor. They kissed eagerly while she stroked his beetle-foot.
A flick of his hand removed her towel, and her modifications were now revealed: two long spider legs attached by fibrous tissue buried deep in her waist. He looked at her lustfully.
He lay down on the sheets as she kissed his chest, her emotions exposed raw in the air, her passions focused solely on his pleasure. His penis stiffened and she took him in her mouth, then, after a while, moved forwards to straddle him, with those two great black legs manoeuvring her torso with stunning flexibility. The hairs on her limbs were sparse, tough as a brush, as he glided his hands up them. She took him inside, naturally now, though it had been surprising the first time – surprising that there was anywhere in which to be taken, after the complications of the surgery. The stickiness enhanced his pleasure, she could tell, but it was Nanzi who came very quickly, a shuddering internal reaction, as silk leaked out of her. He didn’t last any longer, releasing himself into her with short gasps.
Their fluids coalesced, which often made a mess. He reached down to pick up her fallen towel to clean them up.
A tender smile crossed her face, as she crawled up next to him, hand resting on his stomach. They lay there, in the warmth of the fire, their intimacy growing even in such silences. Unspoken conversations. He was vaguely aware that female spiders in their natural habitats were known to kill the male after mating, but fortunately she had not yet shown any sign of such intent.
Still, if I must die some way . . .
Tomorrow he would see to the corpses she had brought him. For now, he lit himself a cigarillo, and enquired further about her day.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘That investigator, he amuses me. He always wants to lecture me, but it isn’t arrogant. It’s rather endearing in fact.’
‘You choose not to kill him then?’ Voland tapped his cigarillo into an ashtray