Stephen Houser

The Wickett Sisters in Time Stephen Houser

NEVER IDENTIFIED.

NEVER FORGOTTEN.

JACK THE RIPPER IN HELL.

The man walked alone in the shadows of New Babylon's streets. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, a black cape with a scarlet lining, and a black top hat. He could have been a gentleman returning home from the opera. But he was not. He was a beast looking for prey.

A Sekhmet demon was standing on the corner. She had long bare legs and a thong covering her female parts. Her breasts were naked and she had the head of a lioness. Sekhmet females had once been worshipped as goddesses in ancient Egypt. Now they were paid for sex in dark alleys.

The Beau Brummel walked up to the Sekhmet and looked into her golden eyes.

"You are quite a lovely creature," he said.

"But my face is probably not what you're interested in, is it?" the streetwalker asked and grinned lasciviously.

The gentleman smiled, aroused.

"A pretty face is always a plus," he replied. "But I actually do have a thing for long, perfect necks."