Having my way with Ulysses

Shame all put on before third person.

She can't move, there in the deepest part of the jungle she's trapped in a spider's web, or no, the spiderweb is growing out of her own body, the threads are coming out of her waist and her hips, they're part of her body, so many threads that look hairy like ropes and disgust me, even though if I were to touch them they might feel as smooth as who knows what, but it makes me queasy to touch them8:52 pm

You don’t scare Arachne.  Did you really think you scared Arachne?  Arachne is just startled, didn’t see you coming.  Why the face?  Under jaw stuck out, head back.  You look like you got a whiff of potted herring gone stale.  Never mind.  Arachne’s seen it before.  You are jealous of Arachne; it’s only natural.  Arachne’s talents intimidate even the goddesses, why not you.  You know Arachne will hold up a mirror and show you your crimes, as if you even need Arachne to do that.  Just look at you, guilt hanging all over you like nets or a fine veil.  Fine like what do you call it gossamer.  And what’s that Arachne smells?  In the air just now (why smell it only now? mysterious) ever so many millions of tiny grains blown across.  Smell that?  Took its time in coming, slow but sure.    Shame.  Arachne thought so.  Must be the heat bringing it out of you.  Must cling to everything.  Arachne supposes people like the smell of shame or they wouldn’t exude so much of it.  Like flies around treacle.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.