call of the wild

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“He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survive.”

― Jack London, The Call of the Wild

Image – https://www.flickr.com/photos/internetarchivebookimages/ via https://www.flickr.com/commons/usage/
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The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 6

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The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 6

Markov pursed his lips and nodded slightly.  But it was more as if he felt Adam seemed to need the acknowledgement, and he politely offered it, rather than actually being interested. Then he bent to pick up his shopping bags, nodded again and said, “Well, must be getting along. I’ve got some frozen berries in there as well as lamb chops, the heat won’t be doing ’em any good.” And he pulled a key out of his pocket, and turned towards his own apartment door.

What the hell? “What?” Adam asked incredulously. Well, it was a bit of a yelp, actually. “You’re just going to leave me here…stranded?” Maybe he sounded a bit pathetic. But he was practically stranded on a desert island, with nothing but a palm tree and a couple of coconuts to keep him company, here.  Figuratively.

Markov’s shoulders sagged, a little. And he stood a moment, with his key in the lock, and his shopping bags hanging off his arm. “I could call the supervisor for you?” he offered, without even the courtesy of turning around.

“And leave me out here? I’ll freeze! Even if you’re new, you should have realised it takes him hours to respond to a call by now!” Adam whined. It wasn’t that warm anymore, and the chilly breeze was giving him goosebumps. He hardly knew where to put his hands to keep himself decent, and try to keep warm too.

“I’ll fetch you a blanket while you wait?” Markov offered hopefully, turning his head a bit at least. He had to know that Adam was angling for an invite into his apartment while he waited. It would at least be one interesting upside to this whole trauma.

Adam pouted, and Markov caved. Not as far as issuing an invite, but…

Well, a minute and thirty seconds later, Adam was wondering if what he ought to be worrying about was living opposite someone with such impressive lock-picking skills. “I thought you were an entomologist,” he asked, slightly accusing, as Markov pushed open Adam’s front door and gestured to him.  (Much as if to say, ‘Voilà, all yours!’) “Not a locksmith.” (‘Locksmith’ seemed more polite than ‘potential burglar’.) “Where did you get your ‘breaking and entering’ chops?”

 

 

© Alex Ankarr 2017, all rights reserved.  Including the stellar artwork, don’t go stealing my spidey, peoples.

YAY!  6th installment of my bug-hunter/bug-phobic gay romance, here it is!

The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 5

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The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 5

Something about it unfroze Adam’s vocal cords, at least. “I was in the shower,” he blurted out, explaining the inexplicable.

Milo nodded, the way you might nod to any naked lunatic. And Adam continued, annoyed – because who liked being humoured? “There was a spider in there,” he said. “I only noticed it once I was already in there, up in the corner out of the way of the showerhead.”

It didn’t get the big reaction he’d been aiming for. Markov just looked at him a moment longer, like there had to be more explanation coming that that. For nudity, and being still bedewed with shower-raindrops, and suchlike.

“It was a really big one,” Adam added. He was getting annoyed, now.

 

© Alex Ankarr 2017, all rights reserved.  Including the stellar artwork, don’t go stealing my spidey, peoples.

YAY!  5th installment of my bug-hunter/bug-phobic gay romance, here it is!

The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 4

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The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 4

Adam couldn’t speak, himself. He’d have choked on a word. It was impossible to come up with even a fumbled, ‘um, hi’. What was he going to do, affect nonchalance, act like he just walked around the building in the buff all the time?

After the awkwardest brief pause in the world, though, Markov saved him. He stood a little straighter – making the most of his diminutive height.  And he looked Adam right in the eye – because anywhere else would have been awkward.  “’Evening, there, neighbour,” was how he opened the conversation.  He folded his arms, and there might have been a twitch of amusement round the pretty curl of his lips. “Interesting weather we’ve been having, right? Warm,” he emphasized.

His gaze traveled and lingered over Adam’s shoulder, arm, hip – suggesting, wordlessly, that a spot of naturism was a perfectly reasonable response to the heat. Or that maybe Adam thought so, at least.

 

 

 

 

© Alex Ankarr 2017, all rights reserved.  Including the stellar artwork, don’t go stealing my spidey, peoples.

 

YAY!  3rd installment of my bug-hunter/bug-phobic gay romance, here it is!

The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 3

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The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 3

They’d nodded at each other in the mornings and evenings and in the utility room in the basement, the rare occasions Adam had spotted the smooth handsome newcomer, so far. He’d been biding his time. Waiting for the perfect moment.

And here it was, their meet-cute. It wasn’t remotely how Adam had imagined it, though. Not sans his slickest new duds, sans towel, sans a shred or scrap of clothing to cover him. Damp and flushed and sweaty, in fact, gasping for breath with the slam of the door still echoing through the hallway. And with his hand over his masculine parts, no sang-froid whatsoever.  (Like a kid whose swimming trunks had come off when he surged up out of the pool, and gave the hotel swimmers and sunbathers a laugh. He half-expected a catcall, a whistle, a round of mocking applause.)

 

 

 

© Alex Ankarr 2017, all rights reserved.  Including the stellar artwork, don’t go stealing my spidey, peoples.

 

YAY!  3rd installment of my bug-hunter/bug-phobic gay romance, here it is!

The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 2

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The Entomologist and NoSpiders-Man – 2

Not alone, no.  Definite company present.  In the shape of Milo, his neighbour from across the hall – standing with his key out and a couple of shopping bags leaning up by his door, now turned around and staring at Adam.  Presumably wondering what the hell was going on, and why his new neighbour had just run screaming out into the hallway, slamming his own front door behind him.  (Stark naked.  Screaming, and naked.)

Milo Markov, the scientist from across the way.  Entomologist, to be precise.  Adam knew, because although they’d barely exchanged a ‘good morning’ so far, he always took care to know the bio of the cutest new residents in the building.  Wouldn’t anyone?

 

 

© Alex Ankarr 2017, all rights reserved.  Including the stellar artwork, don’t go stealing my spidey, peoples.

 

YAY!  2nd installment of my bug-hunter/bug-phobic gay romance, here it is!

Hence, you long legged spinners, hence!

 

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And continuing with the creepy-crawly theme of this blog recently, I had a dream last night.  Well, I think it was a dream, or not.  Or else I woke up in the middle of the night, reached out to the nightstand for my phone to check the time, and –

 

a spider ran over my hand.

 

Checking, this morning, it must surely have been a dream.  Because according to my partner – who sleeps lightly – I did not wake him up by screaming the place down.  And also, there is a curious fogged, vague, indeterminate lack of ending to the memory itself, which doesn’t lend it a lot of credence.

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If it had been for real, then I would have been haring around the bedroom, bashing anything that moved with a rolled-up newspaper and screeching my head off, for sure.  Not that I mind spiders.  Generally, I am pro-spider.  Just not when I’ve that second woken up, and the spider in question is ON MY FUCKING HAND.

That’s all.  I reckon the universe is sending me a message.  Possibly, ‘Crack on with that ‘The Entomologist and No-Spiders-Man’ tale, then, eh?  Where is it?’

 

Image – 1000iu Klvo on Flickr, public domain.

Image – Rob Mitchell on Flickr, public domain.