Vlad watched the sleek, dark female from a safe distance, out of sight. Her long, supple legs flexed, her hour-glass figure rose as she stretched up to reach for something wrapped in pale silk. Her home was a mess but he didn't notice, didn't care. That wasn't important. She, Brunhilda, was a perfect physical specimen. He focused all his attention, all his longings on her - and she wasn't even aware of him, yet. He wouldn't be able to resist very much longer. He wouldn't be able to carry on hiding like this, controlling his desire, watching her long legs, her sinuous movements, her shining body. She turned and he saw the hard glitter of her eyes. He stepped back in alarm, afraid that she might have seen him, realised that he was watching her, planning his stealthy approach.

Brunhilda was bigger than Vlad - considerably bigger. If he didn't approach her very carefully, he might fail to have his way with her and he might even fail to escape with his life. She looked as though she could handle herself. She looked strong and fast. Hell, she looked cold and ruthless. He didn't care .... well, he did care, but the longer he observed her, the more he felt that he would risk anything to have her - just once, even if it cost him his life. As he watched her moving, it was clear to him that she was a killer. It terrified him that he was planning to .... daring to, have sex with that lethal looking female. The danger was a turn-on. His interest in Brunhilda depended on it. His desire was over-riding his instinct for self-preservation.

She was facing the corner behind which he was lurking. Her eyes glittered murderously and she held herself very still, as if poised to pounce. There was no point in waiting any longer. He crept forward, carefully, trying not to look like a threat - or a victim. Brunhilda didn't move. She watched him approach. Instinctively she was weighing, calculating, considering. Did she like the look of this impertinent stranger? Would she accept him or reject him? What would it cost him? She didn't go in for long-term relationships. Whatever she decided, there would be no regrets or recriminations. She would win either way. He knew it. That was obvious by the obsequious way he grovelled forward. She knew it. That was obvious from the imperious way she observed his hesitant approach.

There was a howl of distress from the bedroom and Jason raced up the stairs. Clare threw herself into his arms as he entered the room.

"What's the matter mistress?"

"Oh, Jason look!" She pointed at a glass tank in the corner of the room. "That bitch Brunhilda's eaten Vlad! We only got him for her this morning and she's eaten him already!"

Jason sighed. "Oh dear. What an evil, ungrateful spider she is. Just like you mistress." He laughed.

Clare sniffed. "It's not funny Jason. I wouldn't kill and eat you. I know where to draw the line."

Jason tried to look serious. "Oh look, he's all wrapped up in silk. Perhaps he's still alive. Shall we see if we can unwrap him and resuscitate him?"

"Don't be an idiot or I shall have to tie you up and beat you! He's just a husk wrapped up in a parcel. Hey, I wonder if there'll be any spiderlings?"

Clare dried her tears and looked childishly excited. "Little baby black widows. Oh, how adorable! We'll need another tank. She won't eat them too will she?".