8My lair is on Leith Walk, the wide main road between Edinburgh and its port of Leith. You might have heard of Leith. The MTV Europe awards were on there earlier this month. A certain sense of symmetry must have led to my decision to rent a tenement flat above the Boundary Bar, or as it is known since its renovation, the City Limits. I have a view across Leith Walk west along Pilrig Street towards Trinity and Newhaven. That direction is best, because it is from there that the last dying embers of sunlight shine every evening. I know when it becomes dark.
My web is the intricate layout of streets surrounding my lair. The stronger supporting strands are Leith Walk and Easter Road, the two main thoroughfares leading from the East End of Edinburgh downhill into Leith. They are linked by many smaller streets and alleys used to trap my prey.
My prey. Ah, my prey. I am female and I appear young. I suppose I would be considered to be about twenty-one by most of those who see me. Therefore my prey are males, always twenty-somethings. I have good taste in my young men. Experience has shown me that there are several factors to take into account when choosing prey to capture. The most important is that in the early hours of darkness I should choose only those who are walking down the road, away from Edinburgh. Two reasons for this: firstly those who are walking are fitter than those driving or taking the bus, and secondly those walking away from town are generally heading away from work. This is especially the case if they are smartly dressed in a suit, or dressed expensively, wearing fashionable labels well. A worker is likely not to be under any influence of alcohol. It's not that I don't like the taste, I just hate the smell.
My method of hunting is simple, and it is always successful. I have to be thankful for my own good looks for my high success rate though. I am a brunette, and almost always wear my hair straight and unfettered. It is allowed to move loosely in whatever wind is blowing. I can illustrate my method by the following example from earlier this evening.
I was resting on a bench on Elm Row, the name of the road that forms one of the top parts of Leith Walk. It was an hour after sunset, so the sky was not completely black. The moon is waning just now and its bright silver crescent form hangs in the eastern sky. Blood-red Mars is in the same constellation as the moon, appearing so close that it could be the moon's own satellite. The bench I had chosen was upwind of the drunk sleeping off his afternoon's work. The bottle of whisky, presumably bought from the off- license opposite with the proceeds of his begging, was almost empty. I felt I could almost smell him. Thankfully these seats, giving me a prime view of the late office-workers leaving the centre of town, were next to a small 'town garden' complete with the sweet odour of freshly fallen leaves.
I saw a few groups of people approach and then walk past me, many excitedly chatting about their day, gossiping about colleagues or anticipating the evening's television viewing. Groups are useless to me. I prey on individuals.
After a fairly short time I spotted a likely target. I caught the merest whiff of an odour very important to my trap. I waited until the tall, dark- haired, handsome young man had passed. He wore pressed black trousers, with the sharp crease obvious even under the dim streetlights. He had on a white shirt and a tie. He presumably had a suit jacket to go with his smart trousers, but I couldn't tell because of the long dark-blue winter coat that was buttoned shut in the front. He walked quickly, seeming to be very athletic, with a deliberate but sinuous stride.
Once he had passed where I was sitting without a glance to the side (I can make myself very difficult to see when I want to), I rose to follow him down the hill. I didn't follow him directly though, I prefer to cross the road if someone is, as he was, walking down the left-hand side. There are fewer traffic lights on the right-hand side and this gives me the chance to overtake my prey without appearing conspicuous. For when do women walk faster than men? I continue past the Boundary Bar (sorry, City Limits, old habits die hard). While I walk by shops and cafes, he waits to cross Pilrig Street opposite.
Now is my chance to get into position. There is a bus stop just past Pilrig Street, on his side, so I move back across the road and walk through the bus shelter, as though I had just got off a bus heading out of the city, and turn uphill.
I glance up at my flat across the road, anticipating the feast to come. The traffic in Pilrig Street comes to a halt, and the green man lights up to show that it is safe to cross. Although it isn't really. Not for him.
I approach him as he reaches the kerb. My trap snaps shut quickly.
'Excuse me please. Would you be able to offer me a cigarette?'
I know he smokes. That is the familiar essential odour I had picked up from the bench previously.
I smile at him. He can't refuse me. Instantly his right hand rises to pull out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the inside pocket on the left- hand side of his coat. He takes out a cigarette and gives it to me. Like the gentleman he is, he instantly ignites the lighter and raises it to my face where he expected the cigarette to be. That makes me wince and rock back. He shows a moment's concern. Although annoyed by my moment of weakness I quickly cover it up.
'I don't need it to be lit just now, gorgeous. I only smoke after sex.'
A not-so-subtle hint that, but I like the 'cheesiness' value of the old cigarette after sex gag.
'If you are open to the offer you can come up to my place over the road and have an experience you've been dreaming of, one you'll remember for the rest of your life.'
I am not one to be modest when it comes down to it.
He is obviously a little shocked, so I gently grab his hand and lead him across the quiet road to my flat. He shows little desire to turn me down. He is simply taken aback.
He wasn't too bad in bed, and certainly managed to push all the buttons a girl could wish for. He seemed a little inexperienced though. I would have thought that someone like him would have had plenty of girls aiming their lust towards him.
I am lying back now smoking his cigarette. I do enjoy the relaxing sensation of drawing smoke deep and letting it gently escape my lips. It slows the rapid beating of my heart.
I imagine that the guy beside me would have liked a cigarette, but once he had finished I sank my fangs into his bare neck and slowly sucked him dry of every last drop of blood.
THAT is why I am known as "The Spider". The female spider, who turns on the male after mating, digesting him, sucking him dry, just as any other fly caught in her web.