Tug and the Ripper

Our carriage trundled off the mall and onto the approach to Marlborough House. I could sense Maria was mentally clearing the decks for action. The place was lit up like a Christmas tree, flunkies everywhere. We were greeted by three liveried coachmen, who helped us out of the carriage. Maria landed with feline grace, me a lot less so. We were shown into the main salon by an under-butler. He was clearly not impressed.

I was in morning dress and Maria was in a gown that displayed her very spectacular cleavage. This was supposed to be an informal, "at home." In most households, "at home" meant nothing was planned. With Bertie's set, "at home" presaged an orgy that would have made Caligula jealous.

Maria's efforts to create an impression succeeded beyond our wildest dreams. All talk stopped and people stared in awe. Nobody even looked in my direction. Flashman bounded off the couch hunger in his eyes.

The problem was that, he had to greet me first. So, he pumped my hand and said in a booming voice, "Well met old fellow. Glad you could make our little affair." There were layers of meaning hidden in that statement. I didn't want to even think about the implications.

Then he pivoted to his real object of desire. He gave Maria a courtly bow and as he kissed her hand he said, "And to you dear lady. I hope that I can provide some modicum of amusement." God!! why not just say "let's fuck!"

Maria gave Flashman an appreciative glance. He was a fine figure of a man and obviously still able to function as one. We were led over to be introduced to His Royal Highness Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. There were the usual toadies standing around. Flashman was most prominent. I surveyed the room. Elspeth was nowhere to be seen, thank God!!

If this were a neighborhood bar in Dubuque, Bertie would have been the affable fat guy sitting on the corner stool and holding court to his Kiwanis buddies. Instead, he was enthroned in the middle of a massive Victorian couch, with both arms around two stunning women.

The woman under his right arm was Alice Keppel, I'd seen the pictures. But, the period photography didn't do her justice. She was in Maria's class, winsome face, perfectly proportioned features, ripe, lascivious lips and from what I could tell, a figure to die for.

But it was her raw animal magnetism that the photographs didn't capture. She had incredibly smooth, peaches and cream skin, thick brown hair and very dark and intelligent eyes. Unlike most of the beauties of the day, she wasn't afraid to let that intelligence show. She was regarding me speculatively. It was like something about me puzzled her.

The woman under Bertie's left arm was short and dark haired, with a gorgeous oval face and a porcelain complexion. Because she was smaller, the giant bouncers that were straining the front of her gown made her look like she was mostly all tits.

She didn't have Maria, or Alice's exquisite beauty. But, she could rival Messalina for sheer, unadulterated carnality. Unlike Keppel, who exuded intelligence, this woman couldn't disguise her voracious appetite for men. Smoking hot and available is an attractive quality in a woman; that is, if you are a horney old toad. And Edward VII was all of that.

In fact, this chick was the hottest female I had ever laid eyes on, including Maria. That is saying something. Maria has a million exceptional things going for her, which distracts from the fact that she happens to be the world's hottest fuck. Whereas the promise of raw, abandoned, erotic pleasure, which this woman simply oozed, was really all she had.

Bertie looked at us. There was debauchery lurking at the bottom of those eyes. That was indeed a quality he shared with Flashman. I wondered how the Victorians got their reputation for moral rectitude. if every male was that libidinous.

The Prince barely glanced at me. But when Maria was introduced his eyes widened with undisguised lust. He said jovially, "Why my dear. I don't believe I have seen you at any of my other gatherings. That should have never happened."

I got the impression that heads were going to roll because the randy old bugger had been deprived of fresh meat. Especially a beauty as exquisite as Maria.

Maria said, in an accent that was upper-class English but with a hint of Yankee, "My brother and I have been traveling your Highness. We only recently returned from New York City." That was the cover story to explain our sudden appearance in English society. We had agreed on it while we were waiting for the invitation from Flashman.

When Maria mentioned New York, the dark-haired hottie under Bertie's left arm said in an unmistakable Yankee accent, "Why I'm from New York. Did you meet any of the Jeromes while you were in society there?"

That knocked me back a few steps. This impossibly hot little number was Jenny Jerome, formerly of Brooklyn, now Lady Randolph Churchill, the mother of fourteen-year-old Winston Churchill!!

Parts of the puzzle clicked into place. We were in 1888 because the Athenians had done something to ensure that the Nazis won World War Two. And who was the single person most responsible for the allied victory. You guessed it, Winston Churchill.

Of course, he was a kid then. His old man, who was once an important guy, could have helped Winston advance. Except, syphilis had driven him stark raving nuts. And, Lord Randolph would be dead in six years. After that, Jenny was married twice, to successively younger men. In fact, the last one was three years younger than Winston himself. So there had to be a plan "B."

By every account, Jenny wasn't a slut. Even though Winston's kid brother was allegedly not really his brother. Instead, she fucked around to engineer Winston's rise to prominence.

Given that she was a woman, she had no real influence in politics. But, she could open all the right doors, by opening her legs. So, Jenny selectively fucked her way through the English power structure, moving Winston up the ladder with each new affair.

Looking at her I could readily believe why that was possible. Power and influence comes from WHO you know, not WHAT you know. So, it might be said that, without Jenny Jerome's hot body, Winston Churchill would have been nothing more than another useless, but very witty, member of the English upper-class.

He certainly wouldn't have been the formidable protector of England in its "darkest hour." And maybe the Nazis would have won after all.

It fell into place in a flash of insight. The Athenians were in 1888 to remove Lady Randolph Churchill from the historical equation. Whatever else was happening around that intention, including the Ripper murders, was a smoke screen. it was just a convoluted plot to cover up the real purpose. I had to tell Maria. But unfortunately, Bertie had already taken a shine to her.

He said in his best captain of the bowling team voice, "Why, you must sit with me my dear. And tell me all about our American cousins."

With that, he rather abruptly swept the other two women to their feet. It was like a guy clearing a couple of unwanted dogs off the couch, so a favorite could replace them. Keppel looked amused, Jenny looked pissed.

Then Bertie grabbed Maria by the arm, plopped her down next to him and put his arm around her, possessively. There was a collective gasp. In the Marlborough Set, that gesture was the equivalent of a knighthood. A new star had arisen in the firmament of Victorian society.

Maria had spent a half year fucking Alexander the Great, aka "Master of the Known World." So, somebody like the future King Edward was no challenge. But she was on a mission to find out what he knew.

The voice in my head was giggling as she said, "Watch this!!" She leaned into him in a languid and suggestive way and stared up at him fascinated.

When Maria wants a man to do her bidding she can put tons of hidden promise behind that look. It was the hottest glance I have ever witnessed. Bertie appeared totally nonplussed.

He harrumphed and said, "Why you must spend the evening with me my dear. I need to get to know you better." Everybody in the room knew what he had just suggested. And, Maria would be the star of the show for the rest of the night.

I knew she could handle herself with the lecherous old fart. Her voice in my head was laughing gaily. It was like watching Bastet play with a mouse.

That freed me up to talk to Jenny Jerome. Except the object of my interest seemed to have slipped away. That must have happened while the rest of us were watching Maria reel in Bertie. It was imperative that I find her. Because the Athenian was hunting her.

I still had no idea what the Athenian's plans were. But, I knew that whatever they were up to, involved taking Jenny Jerome off the board. So, I wanted to keep a vigilant eye on her until we could sort the Athenian out. Then, we could call in the Atlantean cavalry, in the form of Carlos and his men. Still, I had a foreboding feeling. Very bad things were going to happen tonight.

Marlborough House has a maze of rooms. I sidled out of the Salon and up the Grand Hallway. Then, I heard voices coming up a side corridor. I didn't want to be seen wandering around a Royal Palace without any form of chaperon. When it comes to discovering stray punters wandering around their digs; royalty tends to over-value their gold candlesticks and cutlery. I ducked through the nearest door.

It was a large oak paneled drawing-room that featured a hellish array of overstuffed couches and other types of Victorian bric-a-brac. It was brightly lit by gas lamps. I could hear the voices just outside the door. Worse the doorknob had begun to turn.

I looked around frantically for some cover. There was a nook off the main room that looked like it might be a private reading chamber. There was no door but there was a heavy plush curtain masking it. I ducked into the darkness behind the curtain, just as two people entered the room.

It was Flashman and Jenny Jerome. I was just beginning to get my heart rate under control when I heard a seductive titter and a low growl of lust and Flashy began to apply one of his patented half-nelsons. I thought, "I don't need this!!"

He grabbed Jenny by her big round ass with his right hand. She moaned with surprise. Then, he popped her right tit completely out of the front of her gown with his left hand. The boob was so big and pendulous that it engulfed the right side of her chest. There was a big brown nipple, which was clearly rock hard. Flashy began to roll it. Her head rocked back, and she began to moan, "Mmmmmm, Hmmm, Mmmmm!"

Flashman's attentions to her nipple stimulated her so much that her knees collapsed. He swept her gallantly up and carried her in his arms, over to the big stuffed couch. It was easy to do. If you left out the monster jugs, Jenny was really a very small woman.

Flashman laid her down on the couch and began to raise her dress. He had a long way to go, since the dress was ankle length. She had one arm over her eyes and the other dangling off the couch. She looked like the prototypical picture of the unconscious Victorian maiden. Except she was uttering an occasional lustful groan.

After a struggle of a couple of minutes, he finally got the decks cleared. It was quite a project, getting her sufficiently undressed. He removed her slips pantaloons and undergarments. I thought to myself, "There's no such thing as a spontaneous fuck in Victorian England."

Throughout that entire time, Jenny was helping him by raising and turning as he removed things. He finally got her naked from the waist down, except for her dark knit hose and suspender belt. It was obvious that the Victorians didn't feel the urge to trim the dark and bushy shrubbery.

Flashman gave a growl of sheer animal lust and leapt face-first into that wilderness. I had to admit that, until that point I also didn't know that the Victorians had the slightest concept of cunnilingus. But, Flashman was like a starving dog plunging into a bowl of Kennel Ration. Maybe he learned that in India?

Jenny had her gorgeous. Slim legs flat on the couch with her knees spread outward and bent at a 45-degree angle, the black garters and hose made a spectacular contrast to the porcelain skin of her firm round thighs.

Flashman was still agitatedly lapping as he wrestled himself out of his pants. In the meantime, his partner had embarked on rhythmic series of, "Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, ahhhs." But, she never removed her right arm from her eyes. It was like nothing was happening if she couldn't see it.

Nevertheless, she was very involved. The hand of the other arm had grabbed Flashmans highly impressive sword and was frantically jacking it. He gave another one of his deep grunts and swung her around on the couch spreading her legs wide as he did it.

He was on his knees, so he was perfectly aligned with his target. She shrieked with surprise at the change in position. Then he plunged balls deep into her wet and receptive hole. That caused an even louder shriek.

By Victorian standards those two were making very indiscrete sex sounds. Worse, they seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. The Queen wouldn't approve of THAT!!

Jenny's big, dark, sensual eyes opened wide. Then, they rolled up in her head and stayed that way. Her legs spread impossibly wide and she began to grunt as Flashman pounded her. The scent of aroused woman started to emanate into the parlor.

Jenny was humping back frantically as she made, "Ungh, Ungh, Ungh, Ungh, Ungh, Ungh," noises. Flashman was obviously hitting bottom. He had gotten the other tit out of her bodice and her two heavy breasts were bouncing and jiggling as they pounded together. The loud liquid slapping sounds filled the room.

Then he threw her legs over his shoulders and really went at it. He had impressive girth. But she was taking him to the hilt. They both obviously had plenty of practice.

Whatever he was hitting was making a difference. Because Jenny immediately started steam-train puffing noises. Then she yelled, "OH MY GAWD, OH JESUS!! YESSSSS!!" And Lady Randolph Churchill experienced a squirting orgasm for the ages. I didn't think those were invented until this Century.

She writhed on Flashman's petard for a full three minutes and he never missed a beat. He was obviously a champion rider.

As Jenny collapsed in a sweaty heap. Flashman withdrew from her, causing a loud moan of loss. Then he more-or-less picked her up by the hips and turned her so that she was situated with her arms draped over the back of the couch, head hanging down from exhaustion and big, round buns hoisted for his added attention.

He plunged back into her and she let out a cry that would have brought the whole house running if the library wasn't so remote and heavily paneled. Her head rocked up, her spine arched and her ass rose further; so that the curvature of her back looked like it was almost a parabolic arc.

She began making little mewling cries of pleasure. But it was obvious that she was exhausted. Her head started to drop. At that, Flashman grabbed her by the bun on the back of her head, pulling her long hair out into a bridle of sorts.

He growled smugly, "Now let's see how well you can gallop m 'dear." And started seriously pounding her butt. The smacking noises almost sounded like pistol shots. Her big round cheeks rippled with the impact.

For a couple of seconds there were more weak complaining noises and then she started uttering, "Ohhh, Ohhh, Ahhh, Ahhhh," sounds. Those rapidly morphed into loud grunts and moans and then she let out an ungodly cry of sheer sensation and began to jerk and shudder like she was having a grand-mal seizure.

Her convulsions were so violent that Flashman was having difficulty staying in her. But it didn't stop him from roaring, "Ahhhh By God YESSSSS!!" and his butt-cheeks began to clench, and unclench, at an impossible rate.

He roared his satisfaction for at least a full minute. All the time, Jenny was squealing and quivering with pleasure. Then she seemed to collapse. It looked like she was unconscious. Her sudden flop pulled Flashman out of her and he finished cumming on her naked ass. He was done with her as soon as he was finished.

Jenny was a mess, lying sprawled across the back of the couch, head hanging down, massive bouncers dangling like a couple of watermelons and big brown nipples still wildly erect. She was totally out of it, clearly in another dimension. Her arms were holding her upper body in place. But her legs had begun to gradually widen as she slumped. With her legs slowly spreading, the volume of fluids running out of her was impressive.

Flashman had finished buttoning his fly, zippers were still three years in the future. He turned with a look of satisfaction on his face, a job well done!! Then he froze in place. It was an odd tableau, like time had stopped.

With that, two Athenians walked into the room. I knew what had happened because I had been on the receiving end of the same sort of mind block in the Grail crypt. I didn't know what they planned to do. But I knew it would be horrible and violent.

I sent a frantic subliminal SOS to my wife. Both Athenians suddenly stopped and looked around. They were like a couple of hunting dogs picking up a scent. I crept further back in the nook and crouched behind a big plush wingback chair.

The curtains parted and the male surveyed the little room. His obsidian eyes glittered with malice. I couldn't remember whether they could see in the dark, or they just used their sensory abilities to find people. I was counting on it being the latter because I was totally shut down, and more than ten feet away from him.

I have plenty of experience making my mind a blank. That was because I spent my entire young adulthood floating in a ganja fueled haze. It was no problem to duplicate that state. The Athenian gave a little grunt of puzzlement and the curtains closed again.

I was afraid to even breathe a sigh of relief. I knew they would sense THAT. So, I stayed shut down, cowering behind the chair. I heard them starting to talk and my limited Atlantean abilities told me that they weren't sensing around any more.

I crept up to the curtain again and peeped out. Flashman was frozen in place; exactly where he had been. Jenny Jerome was just coming back from Sex-Planet-Orgasm, sighing and gasping as she did.

Finally, she turned confused and saw the Athenians. She yelped in terror and plopped herself sitting on the couch, dress covering the evidence of her sin. Then she also froze. I was thinking to myself, "That's a really wicked trick they do."

The Athenian male turned to Flashman and said, "You must be wondering what we have planned for you Old-Son." The jocular tone of voice and the familiarity implied that the Athenian was still wearing the guise of Flashman's old pal Speedicut.

He said, "You see Flashy, we are about to make you a very famous person. Much more famous than you are now. Ha-ha, don't you know. YOU, are going to go down in history as Jack the Ripper.

The whole thing was immediately obvious. The Athenians actual goal was to eradicate Winston Churchill's mother. THAT, would prevent Churchill from becoming Prime Minister and thereby ensure Hitler's success

I thought, why not just kill Churchill himself? He was only fourteen at the time. I wasn't sure what the actual reason was. But, Winston DID have a younger brother and Jenny Jerome was the key to her sons' advancement. So, the Athenians probably wanted to just end all of the prospects of the Churchill family, by removing the mother from the equation?

The Athenian male said in his irritatingly superior voice, "So you see old Bean, you are going to be discovered in just a few minutes standing over the freshly butchered body of Mrs. Churchill, here. Pity that the bloody knife you'll be holding is the Ripper's."