by Tom Adams

July 17: Dear Diary; A new guy moved in next door today. He's cute . And sort of like me. A blue eyed blond. But, maybe not like me. He's tall. Looks at least six, two. That would be exactly a foot taller than I am. But I'm very strong, especially my legs. Of course ,you know that don't you, Dear Diary. Wonder if the new neighbor is strong. Can't tell from a distance. Could make things difficult if he is and I'm sexually attracted to him. Nancy.

Nancy Anderson. Like her diary says, she's a five, two, blue eyed blond. A natural blond with shoulder length hair. Thirty five years old and still no dye needed. Great body. Fantastic legs. Million watt smile. Look at her. Guess her age. You'll say twenty five, max. Maybe younger.

Why? 5:00am. It's a hot July day. Nancy has her hair in a pigtail. It bounces up and down as she runs, not jogs, runs five miles through her middle class neighborhood near downtown Atlanta. In the winter she wears sweat pants. Yes. It can get cold in Atlanta in the winter.

But in the summer it's hot. She wears shorts and a t-shirt. Any man up at that hour does a double take when he sees Nancy's legs. The muscles in her thighs and calves are very large. Awesome. And yet they are feminine. They are, to put it bluntly, sexy and alluring. You want to take her to bed and have her wrap those strong legs around you and drive you to orgasm after orgasm. Corny? Yes. True? You better believe it.

It's only 5:00am, but Nancy can hear the traffic building on nearby  I-75/85 as the combined interstates snake their way through downtown Atlanta. Her neighborhood, Home Park, is near the eight lane highway, just north of the Georgia Tech campus. The houses are old, fifty years or more. But smart, young and even middle aged professionals have started moving in, renovating the structures to shave an hour off the morning commute.

Nancy was one of the first to see this opportunity. Her two story house is on a corner lot. She actually has enough space for a garden in the back yard. She plants the flowers with care. They bloom year round and she waters them and keeps the weeds out. She bought the house ten years ago. It was a very smart financial move. The value doubled, then tripled. Today it's worth five times her original purchase price. But she would not sell. That house is her web.

"Good morning."

The friendly voice comes from a man, of course. Nancy glances at him as he comes along side her. He looks to be in his late forties, early fifties. He's attractive. A full head of hair with a little gray mixed with his light brown. And he's in shape. He has to be to keep up with her. His legs are muscular, no match for hers, and he's only wearing shorts. She admires his body. Good muscle tone in the arms and shoulders. Hard, flat stomach.

"Good morning. I see I'm not the only one up this early. My name's Nancy." She looks at him and flashes her million watt smile.

"I'm Ted. Good to meet you, Nancy. Just moved into the neighborhood with my wife and three teenage kids. How far do you run?"

"Five miles, Ted. Five times a week. And you?"

"Same."

"I start at exactly 5:00am, Ted. Be glad to have you run with me if you can keep up. I'm fast. But running by yourself gets boring."

Ted tries to keep from staring at her legs. Unless I have a heart attack, I'll keep up with you, Nancy.

They're in the last mile of Nancy's run. She's amused by Ted's attempt to keep a conversation going. She has no problem, but he's almost panting for breath. Oh Ted, you don't realize how much stronger you'll be tomorrow and the next day. You want me, Ted.

The five miles is up. 

"See you tomorrow, Ted."

July 19: Dear Diary; That new guy who moved in next door? He's on hold. I'm sure he'll wind up in my web. But not just yet. First, Ted. You know I like older men, Dear Diary. Ted's good looking. Solid body. Bet he's great in bed. You should have seen the way he looked at me, especially my legs. My legs. They drive men crazy and straight into my web. Ted wants me. And I want him. I'll get him. Nancy.

Nancy Anderson is a computer programmer at the firm of Stevens and Barnes, Inc. in downtown Atlanta. She specializes in visual basic and C++. She arrives at work promptly at 8:00am. The 5:00am run gives her plenty of time to do some exercises with light weights, take a leisurely shower, spend some time nude under a sun lamp, eat a breakfast of oatmeal and banana and read the morning paper. She does not like to be rushed.

Most of the time she wears sleeveless pant suits. This covers the muscles in her legs, but not her arms. The evening workouts with heavy weights and the sun lamp keeps them very tanned, muscular and sexy. The same word can be used for her perpetually suntanned face. Sexy. About once a month she wears a skirt cut several inches above the knees, just to amuse herself. Production among the men drops almost fifty per cent. Her bosses don't seem to mind.

Fact is, Nancy is popular at her firm. The women like her. The men worship her. She's very friendly. A good conversationalist. Nancy can talk for hours, but she never really says much about herself. Her past life, what she does on her "off time" remain a mystery. Funny thing is, she's so friendly, such a good listener, so ready to offer suggestions if someone needs help, no one seems to realize they don't really know her at all. And that's exactly the way Nancy wants it.

8:00pm. Nancy Anderson is nude. Sweat rolls off her body. For the past hour she has been lifting heavy weights to keep the fantastic muscle tone in her strong, sexy legs and throughout her body. Her firm breasts are not particularly large, but they stand out because of the chests muscles underneath. She does crunches and sit-ups to keep her stomach rock hard. Other weights, other exercises keep her arms, shoulders, back and butt a mass of muscle when fully pumped.

The hour is up. Nancy stands in front of a full length mirror. She likes what she sees. Nancy is satisfied with her body as is. She doesn't want to add any more muscle. But she wants to make sure she doesn't loose any, especially in her legs. She flexes them until the muscles shake. She looks at them from the front, side and back. They are beautiful, sensual and extremely powerful.

They are what keeps her undefeated in her weight class at a private wrestling club for women. It's located on the south side of Atlanta in an old warehouse. The wrestling area resembles an arena. It's about the size of a tennis court. The floor and seven foot high walls are thickly padded. The seating for the rich men who watch starts just above the wall. There are exactly one thousand seats. Membership to watch these matches is by invitation only. Dues are one thousand dollars a year.

It's on Lee street, several miles south of the Georgia Dome, home of the Atlanta Falcons. On the other side of Lee street from the warehouse, Atlanta's rapid rail transit line speeds people further south and on to the Atlanta Airport, the busiest in the world.

From the street, it's just another abandoned warehouse on Atlanta's south side. Parking is in the rear, out of view from the street. The matches are on Friday nights. The men who watch are sexually aroused by the site of strong women pitting their muscles against each other. They see it as no different from the men sitting at one of the city's many nude nightspots, aroused by a nude woman dancing. And at this club, called The Arena, the women wrestle in the nude. 

The winners take home top prize, one thousand dollars. Nancy Anderson makes more money here than at her "day job." She likes both. Wouldn't quite either. There's the warm atmosphere and satisfaction she gets from her job as a computer programmer. And then there's the thrill of competition and the feel of her muscles straining against another nude woman and feeling her opponent's body straining against hers. Nancy is not gay. But the overall affect leaves her very aroused. 

Nancy quite often has sex with a man immediately after the match. She takes him to her web. It's another part of her life. The most secrete part of all. The most dangerous. And, for the unlucky men who enjoy a night of perhaps the most intense pleasure of their lives, dawn does not bring the start of a new day.

July 25: Dear Diary; About a week ago, I told Ted I'd see him tomorrow. He probably thought I meant we'd run together. No way. Can't be seen with men who're headed for my web. I've changed my running clothes a little. From the loose fitting shorts to the tight ones that show off my butt. And from a t-shirt to a sports bra. I let Ted get a good look at me as I run by. He calls out. I shout hello, but I don't let him catch up. Told him a week ago he could run with me if he could keep up with me. He can't. Never could. Never will. You should see the look on his face. He's ready.

5:45am. Next morning. It's still dark except for the street lights as Nancy and Ted are finishing up their morning runs. Nancy has been closely watching Ted's progress. He seems to have closed to within 3 minutes of her on the five miler. It's time to strike. She stops under a street light and waits for him to catch up.

He reaches her and stops, almost gasping for breath. Nancy is still breathing deeply, but she's had three minutes to catch her breath, to keep complete control of what's about to take place. Ted looks at her. She's smiling at him, standing with her hands on her hips, little beads of sweat on her face, her strong arms and shoulders and hard, flat stomach. Sweat glistens on her beautiful, muscular legs.

"Hello, Ted."

"Hi, Nancy. You're hard to catch."

Ted's words come out in a rush. He still hasn't quite caught his breath. And he's in awe of her body. He can't think of what to say next, so he just looks at her. She's a goddess. Nancy slowly licks the sweat off her upper lip and let's her tongue glide across her teeth. And then her tongue is out again to her lower lip, licking the sweat off and again running across her teeth. And all the time she keeps smiling at Ted who looks like he's going to melt.

Men rule the world? Very funny. All I have to do is run my tongue across my lips and this fool does a melt down. Sex rules the world, or it could. If every woman on this planet would use her sexual power, we'd take over in ten minutes. Sadly, only two per cent, at most, realize what power they have. Pity. Back to Ted, the next visitor to my web.

Ted can see the sweat on Nancy's body. Smell it. He'd like to taste it. God, he wants her. What happens next stuns him. Snaps his mind into a different world. She's playing with him now. Toying with him. Luring him closer and closer to her web. She takes one hand off a hip and wipes the sweat off her hard, tanned stomach, flexing the muscles in her gut gently.

"Ted, would you like to see me fight?"

"What?" 

He's not sure he heard what he thought he heard. He wants it repeated. And the question comes from so far "out of left field" he's having trouble taking it all in. The sight of Nancy in the soft glow of the street light. The sexy way she wiped the sweat off her lips and stomach. And now this.

"Would you like to see me fight? Yes or no? It's a simple question." She ask it in very soft voice, still smiling at him. Nancy knows what the almost knee jerk answer will be. She's heard the word so many times before.

"Yes."

"Great, Ted. Oh, I can see your concern. I will not really fight. I belong to a private club where women wrestle in the nude. Just wrestle. No hitting. No kicking. No biting. No scratching. I'm the champion in my weight class. It's a lot of fun for the women involved. And more and more women are getting into the contact sports. I'm sure you're aware of the growing popularity of women's boxing, and the women on "pro" wrestling. As for being nude? No different from the nude dancers at the clubs all over the city. And it draws in a paying crowd of men to help pay expenses. And pay some of the more popular wrestlers, like me, large sums of money. I wrestle at 8:00pm this Friday. Pick me up at 7:00. Come around behind my house to the entrance to my garden. See you them."

 She leaves him there under the street light, his mind numb, and jogs home. Poor Ted. He's got a wife and three kids. You don't just go out, alone, on a Friday night without a damn good excuse. And if he has things his way it will not end Friday night. It will be some time early Saturday morning after he's been in bed with Nancy all night. Now how the hell do you explain being out all night. Oh well, I'll think of something. And Ted turns and jogs home. After all, it's only Tuesday and he's got three whole days to think of "something." 

Friday. 7:00pm. Nancy waits in the dark area on the street behind her garden. Ted arrives right on time. She jumps in the front passenger seat. She's wearing sweat pants, jogging shoes, sweat shirt and a cap with a long bill sort of pulled down over her face. Her right hand holds a small clothes bag. After all, she will be wrestling in the  nude.

"Just a precaution, Ted. Some of my fans get a little too friendly in the parking lot." 

He has still not thought of an excuse for tonight. But that's in the back of his mind. First Nancy. Then the excuse. They exchange some small talk as she gives him directions to The Arena.

Oh Ted, dear Ted, poor little fool Ted. And just what were you going to tell your wife tomorrow morning? You have no idea. Doesn't matter. That's one problem that will vanish before the sun comes up. All your problems will vanish tonight. In a way I envy you, Ted. Sometimes life can be such a pain in the ass.

Nancy ask Ted to stop near a side door. She jumps out of the car. Tells him she's running late. Directs him to a spot near the rear of the parking lot. Ted has a complementary pass down near the front row. After the match, they're to meet in the parking lot and Ted will take her home. If at all possible, Nancy can't be seen with Ted.

Nancy and a girl named Alice are the main attraction tonight. Nancy has never lost a match, but Alice has been working her way up the ranks with 20 victories and no defeats. Alice enters the arena promptly at 8:00pm to light applause. She is a bear of a woman. Her biceps are huge. A bear hug has forced her opponents to give up or broken their spines. It promises to be quite a match.

8:10pm. Still no Nancy. The crowd is growing restless. Alice looks pissed off. Suddenly at about 8:15 Nancy enters the ring wearing her blond hair in a pig tail, tied tightly with her trademark black ribbon. The crowd jumps to its feet and cheers. The muscles in her legs glisten under the bright lights. It's how she's won every victory. A powerful leg scissors hold around her opponent's ribs. It promises to be quite a match. Nancy's legs against Alice's arms.

Nancy dances around the arena for a few minutes, her fist clasped above her head, flexing the muscles in her perpetually tanned body. Sex. Pure sex. The men eat it up. She's been taking karate lessons on Saturday mornings and has a black belt. As she passes Alice on one of the rounds she swings in very close. The blow is lighting quick. Her right fist shoots into Alice's solar plexus and the large woman drops to the mat. Alice's manager protest vigorously. But the referee didn't see it. And even if he had, he would have ignored it.

The owners of The Arena have told him that unless Nancy pulls out a gun and shoots someone, to ignore anything she does. She has almost single handedly turned this from a seedy gym where women came to wrestle into a well oiled cash cow. It was where women could go and test their strength and skills against each other under strict rules. Nancy's arrival changed all that. Now there's virtually no difference between it and women's pro wrestling on television. Some of the old timers deeply resent that and despise Nancy. But sex sells, as much here as in "pro" wrestling on the tube.

The referee gives the usual instructions. No punching, elbowing, kicking, hair pulling, biting, scratching, etc. But anything goes with a wrestling hold. Nancy and Alice listen and then lock hands to try and force their opponent down. This is the way all matches start. The muscles in their arms and shoulders bulge as they try to bend their opponents wrist back and eventually bring them to their knees. Nancy always uses this to show off her leg muscles. They're not really needed. It's a hands, arms and shoulders thing. But Nancy knows how to use sex to arouse the men. She flexes the hard muscles in her butt and thighs. She throws her head back and closes her eyes. She's a real show horse. Eventually Alice is forced back and gives up the hold. Her wrists and forearms are not as strong as her huge biceps.

Nancy holds up her arms in a sign of victory to listen to the cheers of the men. It's a careless move. Alice lunges in and wraps her powerful arms around Nancy's ribs. Her wrists lock at Nancy's spine. Immediately, the pain is intense. She pushes Alice's head back to try and break the hold. It doesn't work. She reaches behind her to try to pry Alice's fingers loose, but her grip is too strong. The crowd grows quite. It looks like Nancy is finally going to be defeated. She throws her head back in pain.

But Nancy is not going to be defeated. Few people, but the referee, know it, but when Nancy gets in a jam, Nancy cheats. The other wrestlers know it also. And they hate her. Sex appeal and cheating. That's why Nancy arouses the men. That's why she wins her matches. She pushes Alice's head back again. Nancy's palms are on her opponent's forehead. She turns away from the referee and her thumbs plunge into Alice's eyes. It's done so quickly no one really sees it. It's an illegal tactic. But it works. Alice is stunned, almost blinded. She releases the bear hug.

Nancy grabs Alice's feet and yanks her to the mat and then wraps her powerful thighs around her ribs. Alice tries to protest to the referee, but Nancy's thighs are squeezing the air out of her lungs. She can't speak. Nancy leans back in a sexy pose, tightens every muscle in her body as she squeezes Alice until she's unconscious. The men are aroused by the site of her tanned, muscular body. They roar their approval. 

Ted is on his feet, cheering wildly and thinking of the night ahead. A night with the Amazon in the arena. He still hasn't thought of an excuse to be out this long. An excuse for all night? Impossible. He doesn't care. Nancy is the most desirable woman in his lifetime. He'll think of something before daybreak. Right.

Some of the other women wrestlers watching saw the illegal thumbs in Alice's eyes. They're protesting to the owner of The Arena. He smiles and listens. Their words go in one ear and out the other. He doesn't care. Nancy is pure sex. She's why most of the men are here. She's well paid. The Arena is making big bucks. The other wrestlers threaten to quit. The manager calms them down without telling them the truth. They're a dime a dozen. Nancy is a gold mine.

And Nancy is a total psychopath, severe mental disorder with anti social behavior. In addition to that, she has no morals, no ethics and no principles. Her antisocial behavior is especially evident around the other wrestlers. She doesn't talk to them, doesn't use the same locker room and treats them like dirt in The Arena matches. Some have been almost maimed by her quick illegal tactics.

At her programming job, although she's friendly and well liked by the women, her reluctance to talk about herself is slowly beginning to give her a reclusive, anti social persona. But like at The Arena, she gets by on sex appeal. Men run the office. Nancy does her job well. And they all have dreams of taking her to bed. Sex runs the world. As long as I stay sexy the men will say "how high" when I say "jump." 

Ted waits by the car. The lot is virtually empty. No one in sight. Suddenly Nancy hurries out of The Arena, again dressed in sweat pants, sweat shirt and cap.

"Nancy, you were fantastic."

"Ted, let's go, quick. I think one of my fans is stalking me. I'll show you a back way out."

After seeing the look in the men's eyes while she was wrestling, Ted doesn't doubt it a bit. He doesn't realize it's still part of Nancy's plan not to be seen with him. They drive quickly back to their neighborhood. She looks over her shoulder occasionally, pretending to search for the imaginary "stalker."

"Ted, could you park the car in this dark stretch, several houses down the street from my garden. We'll walk the rest of the way. He still might be back there, somewhere. I'll feel more secure if you stay with me until I get to my back yard. I'm sure both of us could fight someone off."

"Yes, Nancy. Of course. If anyone tries to grab you, I'll beat him to a bloody pulp."

It's all Nancy can do to keep from laughing. No, Ted. If there really is someone back there, and there isn't, I'll beat him to a bloody pulp. You just stand on the other side of the street and watch. I don't want you to get hurt and not be able to make it to my web. And we're so close, Ted. So close.

When they reach the door to Nancy's garden, she pauses. Ted can barely see her in the dark. But he can hear her breathing. Can smell her body, fresh, seductive. Again, like under the street light earlier in the week, he wants to taste her.

Nancy knows all this. And again she ask a knee jerk question, knowing what the answer will be.

"Would you like to come in for awhile, Ted. Maybe have a drink or something before you head for home?"

"Yes."

Ted can't see it, but Nancy smiles broadly as she opens the gate. We're almost there, Ted.

They cross the garden. The hum of traffic on nearby I-75/I-85 has settled down to a steady hum from the roar of a Friday afternoon rush hour. It's a peaceful sound, really. Could lull you to sleep. Sleep? Don't be silly. That's the last thing on the minds of Nancy and Ted, for the next several hours anyway.

They cross the garden and walk up the steps to a small screened in porch. It would seat two, maybe three people comfortably. Nancy inserts a key in the deadbolt lock and a few seconds later they're crossing through the kitchen, headed for the living room. It has a large, comfortable looking sofa and three chairs, equally comfortable looking.

"Ted, I'll fix our drinks, but first could you give me a quick massage? Those wrestling matches always leave me tense, especially my legs."

"Of course, Nancy. Be glad to."

"Please sit down on the sofa, Ted."

He does. Nancy kicks off her shoes and pulls off her cap, sweat pants and sweat shirt. She's down to a sports bra and shorts, which are extremely short. They just barely cover her butt.

"You'll have to spread your legs a little, Ted, so I can get in close."

She notices his breathing has become a little heavy. His face slightly flushed. My God, Ted. Relax. We haven't even started yet.

She pushes a chair up to the sofa, between Ted's legs and hops in, stretching her legs across his body with her feet resting on his shoulders. She leans back and closes her eyes.

"Please start with my feet and move the massage to my calves and thighs. I hope you have good hands, Ted. I'm really tense."

Ted uses his thumbs to rub Nancy's high arches, and his fingers to work her toes back and forth. Nancy sighs. She has pretty feet. Ted's not into foot fetish, but he finds the sight and feel of them arousing, wants to kiss them. He pauses for a moment, staring at her feet, wondering what her reaction would be if he did. Nancy doesn't even have to open her eyes to know what's happening.

"You can kiss them if you want to, Ted. And my legs. It's not like we're having sex, just part of the massage. In fact it makes the massage even better."

His lips move across her arches, then the balls of her feet and then her toes. His breathing is getting even heavier and he's starting to have an erection. There is a slight bulge in his pants. Again, Nancy doesn't even have to open her eyes to know what's going on. She reaches down and starts to gently rub the bulge in his pants.

"I'm sure you don't mind if I give you a return massage, do you, Ted?"

"Of course not, Nancy. I'm just a little embarrassed at getting this excited so quickly"

"Think nothing of it, Ted. Do what I'm doing. Just relax."

Ted. You couldn't relax now if your life depended on it. And you didn't really get excited all that quick. I've seen that bulge appear in other men's pants while I'm arranging the furniture. God, I'm good. If I ever get tired of wrestling I may my take up prostitution. Very high class of course. One thousand dollars a night. Minimum. And I'm worth every penny of it.

Ted's fingers are digging into the powerful muscles in Nancy's calves. She continues to lean back with her eyes closed and begins to sigh. His tongue and lips pass over her calves and her sighs turn to moans. And she continues to massage the bulge in his pants feeling it get larger and larger. And now his fingers are massaging her powerful thighs. He tries to bend down to run his lips and tongue over them, but can't reach. Nancy can feel the slight pause, the exertion in Ted's breath. Again, without opening her eyes she knows exactly what's going on. There is only one solution. The web. 

"Ted. Let's go up to my bedroom. Your lips and tongue will be able to reach any part of my body."

She leads him upstairs. The bed is king size. There are two windows. The blinds are shut and the curtains closed over the blinds. On the other side a full length mirror covers the entire wall from floor to ceiling. At the head of the bed is another full length mirror from the ceiling down to an area just below the top of the bed. Ted glances behind him. That wall is also covered by a full length, floor to ceiling mirror.

"It was left behind by the former owners," says Nancy as she winks and smiles. "They must have really enjoyed sex. Not just doing it, but watching."

She takes her clothes off. He's already seen her nude in The Arena. But this is up close. It's different. He can clearly see her firm breasts as they rise and fall as she breathes. He gets a close look at her hard, flat stomach and watches the muscles flex as she breathes. The rest of her body, he's pretty much familiar with from the morning runs.

Nancy unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off. Next comes the unbuckling of his belt. She slips off his loafers. He's not wearing socks and then she pulls down his pants and his underwear and lets them drop to the floor. He's fifty years old, but he has the body of a man thirty five, Nancy's age. But she has the body of a woman twenty five. They wrap their arms around each other and their bodies press together. She stands on her toes to kiss him and her tongue runs deep into his mouth and mingles with his. Then she suddenly draws back.   

Nancy pauses for a moment, then her smile fades. Her look is serious. She stares into Ted's eyes.

"Ted, I want to warn you. I'm a black widow. Do you understand what this means? Do you?

Ted looks puzzled for a moment. Then he remembers. The female black widow kills and eats the male after they mate. Nancy can tell by the look on his face he knows about black widows.

"Ted, I don't eat my mates, but I kill them. Do you want to proceed with this?" 

It's like the night earlier in the week when Nancy said, "Do you want to see me fight?" His mind has trouble comprehending. One part of his brain tells him she's telling the truth. The other part, the part that wants her body, wants to make love to her, tells him she's kidding. Nancy knows she's telling the truth. And she knows, from experience which park of his brain will win. There will be a knee jerk, one word answer. Sex it's all sex. Always has been. Always will be. Men are such fools.

"Yes."

"Very well, Ted. Life is full of choices. You just made one. Let's see where it leads."

Nancy practically leaps on the bed, landing on her back, opening her arms and legs to Ted. He is in her quickly and she warps her limbs around him gently and meets him thrust for thrust. Oh please, dear God. Let me have an orgasm with Ted. He's very good at making love. He's great. I like him. I don't want to kill this man.

Nancy Anderson. Sexy little Nancy Anderson. In spite of all her beauty. In spite of all her sexual power over men, she has one devastating weakness. She's not able to reach an orgasm unless she's killing her lover and watching in one of the full length mirrors. She is a true "black widow". But she warned him.

Ted is panting, moaning and reaching a climax. Nancy is straining with every muscle in her body. She's trembling from the effort and also moaning. Ted thinks she's having orgasm after orgasm, a real sex machine. He couldn't be more wrong. After Ted has his climax Nancy will tell him how great he is and turn on her side and pretend to sleep. He will, of course, sleep. Men always do after sex. In a few hours, he'll be awake and ready to go again. She will strain again until she's wet with sweat. If she fails again to have an orgasm, she becomes "the black widow." But she warned him.

Nancy has been laying in the bed, wide awake, for about an hour. Suddenly her eyes open wide. She remembers MARTA's (Metropolitan Area Rapid Transit Authority) rail line shuts down at 1:30am Saturday morning. Their buses stop running earlier than that. If she has to turn into a "black widow" she's got to catch a 1:30am train to get back home. Otherwise, she'll have to take a taxi and cab drivers have a way of remembering things, like attractive female passengers.

She wakes Ted up. He's quickly realizes what she wants, or thinks he does, and within minutes he's fully aroused and on top of her. Nancy strains every muscle. She wants an orgasm the old fashioned way, not the black widow way. But it's no use. She's covered with sweat from the effort. Ted makes a silent vow there will be more Friday night getaways with this Amazon. Ted doesn't really have much left after such a short break from the first session. He reaches a climax quickly and rolls over on his back, exhausted.

"Sit up, Ted. Let me massage your shoulders and back. You were great and I know you must be sort of tense. It will relax you."

Ted, the stud, the macho machine, smiles and sits up turning his back to Nancy.

It happens so fast he doesn't have time to even think about screaming until all the air has been squeezed out of his lungs. Nancy's powerful thighs shoot around his ribs. Her ankles lock in a death grip scissors hold. At the same time her right arm flies around his neck. Her bicep begins to crush his throat as her left hand grabs her right wrist completing the choke hold.

Ted starts to black out but manages to get to his feet. He's standing next to the full length mirror. Nancy is watching, moaning and having orgasm after orgasm. He drops to his knees and them sits down on the floor. Wave after wave of climaxes continue to sweep Nancy's body.

Oh my God. Nancy wasn't kidding. She really is a black widow. It's his last thought before he blacks out. His last thought before he dies. Nancy lets another wave of orgasms rack her body and then collapses on the floor and rest, but only for a few minutes.

Ted will be reported missing and the police will  begin to take it seriously, maybe as early as tomorrow, depending on what Ted has told his wife, if anything, certainly by Monday morning. Nancy doesn't want his car found so near her house.

She quickly puts on the same sweat pants, sweat shirt, jogging shoes and cap. This time she adds a pair of gloves. She grabs a larger bag this time and stuffs a crow bar and knife into it. Then her hands run into Ted's pants until she finds his car keys. Nancy leaves through the entrance to her garden, drives Ted's car north on I-75/85, takes the first exit and cuts left on a surface street that dead ends at the Lindberg MARTA station.

She drives to a remote corner of the station parking lot, which is virtually empty. She parks under the shadow of some trees. The crowbar comes out of the bag and she trashes the inside of the car, making it look like a strip down or at least a vandalism job. Out pops the CD player. Out pops the built in cell phone. Out pops everything in the glove compartment, which is locked but forced open by her crowbar. And then the crowbar slams into the instrument panel, shattering the glass. Her knife comes out and she draws long slashes into the leather seats.

Then out side. The knife slashes all four tires. The crowbar pries off the expensive hubcaps. She stuffs everything of value into her bag, smashes the car windows with the crowbar and jogs to the Lindberg station at 1:29am. She can hear the hum on the rails as the last train of the night approaches. She hops on and a few minutes later hops off at the station nearest her house in Home Park. 

She's jogging home, wondering where to dispose of the hubcaps, etc, when she spots a real gift from heaven. From heaven? I deserve gifts from heaven? God must get sleepy on a late Friday night.

A dump truck on an early morning run is unloading the first of two dumpsters at an office building. Nancy slips behind the second dumpster and tosses her bag into it. The sleepy driver doesn't notice. The first dumpster slams back to the pavement and the truck moves in behind the second, scoops it up, dumps the contents into the truck. Powerful motors hum as everything is smashed together making room for still more dumpsters before the load of trash is taken to its final resting place at the nearest landfill.

Nancy runs, not jogs, runs the rest of the distance to her house. More unfinished business. Ted, and all his clothes and car keys are stuffed into a body bag. Nancy carefully searches the house, retraces their footsteps from the time they entered the porch until the time he died to make make sure there is no sign of him. Nothing dropped in the living room. Nothing on the stairs. Nothing in the bed room. She'll make another search tomorrow under full daylight.

The final items to go into the body bag are the sheets on the bed, her sweat pants, sweat shirt, gloves, jogging shoes and cap. Then she drags the body bag downstairs and gets a shovel. Her garden has a high fence with a thick hedge growing at the top. Total privacy. Especially at 3:00am. She gets her shovel and slowly digs a shallow grave. Very slowly. Shovels going through dirt can make noise and there is virtually no cover at this hour from the nearby expressway. She pulls Ted's body bag into the grave and slowly pulls the dirt on top. The warm ground feels good on her bare feet.

With this done, Nancy goes to her bedroom and strips off her shorts and sports bra. She's not wearing panties. Her nude body sinks into the bare mattress and she sleeps til noon. The next day she plants and waters a beautiful bush over Ted's grave. Then she moves to the bush over Steven's grave and waters it. Then to Jim's, Bob's Fletcher's and Ed's.

July 30: Dear Diary; How many more? How many more? That's six. How many more? Do you know what? I don't really care. I know what I want. And I get it! This all reminds me of part of an old song by Frank Sinatra. It's called My Way, I think.

I live a life that's full.

I travel each and ev'ry highway;

But more, much more than this,

I do it my way

To think I do all this;

And may I say - not in a shy way,

"No, oh no not me,

I do it my way."

I'm sure you didn't have me in mind when you sang that, Frank. You'd probably roll over in your grave if you knew it helps inspire me. But thanks anyway, Frank. Good night, Dear Diary, Nancy.

# Tom Adams, 2001. All Rights Reserved.  Comments to: blackwidowdiary@aol.com