7 Tales of Sex and Betrayal by Zita Weber Page B

thought of what she hadn’t said. Suddenly he
jerked. His body stiffened. The spider was on the move again,
circling his stomach. Dave’s contorted face gave away his
agony.
    “Has the spider bitten you?” asked Joanne
anxiously.
    “No,” he replied hesitantly. “At least I
don’t think so. But there’s a burning sensation.”
    “That’s probably from the hair on its legs.
I think that happens when the spider is frightened. Whatever
happens, you mustn’t move. Keep still. It mustn’t bite near your
heart.”
    Although he wanted to ask why, he was
frightened to hear the answer. The only thing to do was to lie back
in his sweat and wait.
    Joanne sat and watched the small white mound
resting on his stomach for ten minutes. She noted his increasing
desperation, his eyelids, though closed were flickering
strangely.
    “Dave? Dave, I’ve got to do something. I’ve
thought of a plan.”
    He opened his eyes and she saw the mixture
of hope and desperation. “What is it?”
    She bit her lip and answered nervously, “I’m
going to try to kill it. Squash it.”
    A few seconds passed before the message sank
in.
    “You mean squash it while it’s lying on my
stomach?”
    “Well, yes.”
    “You can’t do that! Joanne, what if you
missed?” His eyes and voice pleaded with her, but she had made up
her mind.
    She was already standing over him, staring
at the sheet-covered mound, concentrating on the exact spot she
must hit to end his agony.
    As she raised both hands, for extra impact,
he panicked and lifted his arm to stop her. His sudden movement
prompted an immediate reaction from the spider. It happened almost
simultaneously.
    As her hand came down on his stomach, the
spider was on the move. He screamed with fright as he felt the
hairy legs on his chest. There was a sharp bite near his heart.
    Lifting his shoulders up and gasping for
air, he held a hand out to her. A short struggle to breathe, a
choking sound was followed by his body collapsing back onto the
bed.
    His face looked strangely calm in a way it
never had in life. Although she knew it was no use, she ran from
the house and yelled out for someone to fetch the doctor. Later on,
she’d have difficulty recalling the exact order of events. It was
like that dissociation feeling she’d read about, when people are
there without being there. It happens all the time when you’re
doing routine things like driving a regular route. You may not
recall anything about the actual trip or whether you ran a red
light or not. But that feeling of being absent whilst present is
also possible in traumatic circumstances such as she experienced.
She’d read that it’s a way for the mind to protect itself from the
shock of the events. There had been so much commotion that she
could only remember standing next to the doctor by the bed.
    “You know, I warned him about all his
drinking,” said the doctor after examining the body. “His heart
couldn’t take it, not in this climate. I’m sorry Joanne.”
    “We might have saved him, if only I could
have got you here sooner.”
    “Now, now, Joanne, don’t go blaming
yourself. You did everything you could. It was bound to happen
sooner or later.”
    “You’re sure it was a heart attack?”
    “Of course. He’d had a poor heart for ages.
Why do you ask?”
    “Well, he kept saying there was a spider – a
tarantula between the sheets.”
    “Tarantula? Really? How odd. Still, that
might account for the small bite on the left side of his
chest.”
    “But that didn’t kill him then?”
    “Of course not. People think tarantulas are
deadly, but most of them aren’t, except for one found in parts of
southern Italy.”
    “Oh yes. Pepie, our houseboy told me that.
He keeps one as a pet, but it’s perfectly harmless. You can pick it
up but you have to be careful not to drop it. They’re very delicate
creatures I’m told.”
    After the doctor left, Joanne sat on the
verandah and looked out on her beautiful garden. She