Catherine Eddowes,Martha Turner, Mary Jane Kelly, Annie Chapman, Mary Anne Nichols. Theworld remembers these women as the victims of Jack the Ripper, ...uttheir killer was no mere man.I sipped my milk thoughtfully, idly running a finger across my cheek asI remembered the feel of Frank Bennett's 'mutton chop' whiskers.Archimage had been concerned by the success of Bennett and St.Clair andthe department they worked for. Their investigations had come close toour activities on several occasions and. As Joyce bent over to put down the cooler with the food and take out her racket, a sudden burst of adrenaline shot through my body, like a convict hurdling over the prison wall. The sight of Joyce bending over incited me like fresh blood to a shark. I grabbed her by her wrists and held them above her head, spinning her around and forcing her back against the fence. As I held her arms above her head, I tied her wrists together with her long blonde hair. I then looped the remainder of the hair. My hand, no longer occupied, found her stomach and inched slowly towards her jeans.“Yes,” she whispered.I needed no further invitation! I slipped my fingers into her jeans, then under the waistband of her cotton panties. My fingers discovered soft pubic hair and April spread her legs slightly. Even before I reached my goal, radiated heat warmed my fingers. The heat grew more intense as I ran my middle finger across the top of her labia, and I slid my finger completely between her. “Don’t wear those again,” I said, “except to a costume ball or some such.”She nodded, jiggling the curls at the back of her head and her lush boobies.“Turn about,” I said as she stood there in her fancy stays and lacy shift.She did, quite prettily.“You have a fine body,” I told her. “But a poor dressmaker.”She looked sad-eyed.“Get rid of the stays,” I said.She bit her lips and undid her long laces. Then she wiggled the long corset over her ample hips and tossed it on the pile of clothes.“Shoes,.