A SYRIAN BEAUTY

At the Dorset Hotel in Duchess Lane, LePage, in the Victorian countryside, they had just started serving tea. George Mulberry, the proprietor, a tall muscular man, looking more like a wrestler than a hotel owner, was standing in the gaudy blue-and-yellow reception area, looking through the back pages of the Melbourne Recorder, reading the football scores from the day before.
"Pox idiots," said George, referring to his beloved West Coast Eagles who on Saturday had lost 11 goals 12 behinds, 78 to the Sydney Swans 15 goals 14 behinds, 104: "Why don't they learn how to kick?"

"Why don't you learn how to help out in the dining room?" asked his beautiful forty-something, redheaded, chestalicious wife, Annette.

"We've got a book-in due any time now."

"She can ting-a-ling when she arrives," said Annette, pointing at the chrome bell on the reception counter, then toward the dining room door: "Now get into the dining room!"

"Yes, honey," said George, dropping the paper on the floor. Although twice as heavy and perhaps a dozen times as strong as his wife, he had learnt years ago 'Hell hath no fury like a redhead pissed off'.

George had barely exited the reception area when a gorgeous Syrian woman with long black hair, darkish skin, deep brown eyes, a generous chest, and a behind that would put Bianca Censori to shame, swayed her way in through the doorway.

"Hello," she said in clear English with just a hint of a Syrian accent: "I believe you are expecting me?"

"Are you Mz. Derceto?" asked the redhead.

"Miss," corrected the Syrian Beauty: "I don't want to scare off any eligible bachelors."

"Of course not," said Annette, before checking the PC on the reception desk: "Aisha Derceto."

"That is correct."

"What a beautiful name."

"Thank you, it is Syrian... As am I." She looked around the reception area and then asked: "What's with the rather garish blue and yellow decor?"

"My husband, George, supports the West Coast Eagles in the Australian Football League," answered Annette, having been asked the same question by many guests: "Actually, their colours are dark blue, white, and yellow. However, George insisted on running an errand when the painter was due. When he got back he found the man had left out the white. My husband swore he'd done it on purpose since the man, Mallory Hopkins, is a Fremantle supporter, and Freo supporters and West Coast fans hate each other's team. So George insisted he repaint it without extra payment; Mallory insisted he be paid extra. They argued at length, forcing me to separate them before it came to blows, and since neither man would give a centimetre, it stayed blue and yellow. You know how men can be when they're both partly in the wrong?"

"Of course," said Aisha with a chuckle: "Can you get someone to bring in my luggage."

"I'll get the Incredible Bulk," said Annette heading toward the dining room.

"Pardon me?"

"I mean my husband."

"Oh, I see."

In the dining room, the redhead said: "I've got a gorgeous Syrian lady who needs help with her luggage."

George Mulberry, and every other man in the dining room, started toward the door to the reception area.

"It'll only take a couple of you," protested Annette; however the stampede of testosterone-filled men continued.

In the reception area, Aisha Derceto chuckled as she saw the stampede of men. This could be my lucky week! she thought. Aloud she said, pointing:

"My suitcases are just outside." Then, as the men stampeded again: "Don't damage them."

"We won't," chorused the men as they charged outdoors.

"What's the rush?" demanded Lizzie Enrich, an attractive twenty-year-old leggy brunette; the hotel's maid-cum-waitress-cum-general dog's body.

"I'm afraid I always seem to have this effect on men," said Aisha, drawing a smile from Annette and a sneer from Lizzie; who was used to having men run toward her, not away from her.


Over at the Yellow House in Rochester Road, Merridale, they were setting down for tea also.

"What treat have you prepared for us tonight, Mrs. M?" asked Sheila Bennett. A thirty-five-year-old Goth chick with orange-and-black-striped hair. As Chief Constable, she was the second-top cop in the BeauLarkin to Glen Hartwell area.

"Shepherd's Pie, complete with fresh oysters, along with steamed veggies, followed by Baked Alaska," said Deidre Morton. A short, dumpy, sixty-something brunette who put most Michelin Star Chef's to shame. She was the owner of the Yellow House, so nicknamed because it was painted yellow inside and out.

"Whacko," said Tommy Turner, a short obese retiree with shoulder-length blond hair.

"I've always wondered why the ice cream doesn't melt when you make Baked Alaska?" asked Natasha Lipzing. A tall, thin grey-haired woman of seventy, who had spent the second half of her life at the Yellow House.

"The meringue insulates the ice cream from the heat," explained Colin Klein. At forty-eight, the tall redheaded man had been a top London crime reporter for thirty years, till recently retiring to take up employment with the Glen Hartwell Police Department.

"And you only bake it for a few minutes," added Terri Scott. A thirty-five-year old ash blonde, she was the top cop of the area and Colin's fiancée.

"It seems you've got two apprentices, Mrs. M.," teased Freddy Kingston. A tall, stout, bald, recent retiree.

"Yes, I'll have to get them doing the dishes after tea," teased Deidre: "That's what apprentice chefs mainly do for the first year.

"Uh-oh,' said Colin, laughing.

"We've offered to do the dishes many times," pointed out Terri.

"Yes, they have," agreed Sheila: "Not me, but Terri and Colin have." Then, as everyone turned to stare at her: "What?"


At the Dorset Hotel, they had carried Aisha Derceto's luggage up to her room; which she was relieved to see was painted a pale lime colour:

"I wouldn't let the big fellow paint the guest rooms in blue and yellow," explained Annette Mulberry.

"Blue, white, and yellow," corrected George.

"Whatever; anyway I laid down the law."

"Thank goodness," teased Aisha.

"What's wrong with blue, white, and yellow?"

"For one thing you'd creep out all the guests; not many people in Victoria barrack for the West Coast Eagles."

"My family came from Western Australia," explained George.

"If I'd known that, I'd have never married you," teased the redhead.

"If we didn't have company that generous bottom of yours might get a serious spanking, honey," teased George, giving her a none-too-gentle pat on the behind for her trouble.,

"I'll get Lizzie to help you unpack later, after tea," said Annette, leading the way out into the red-carpeted hallway.

"I got the impression that she didn't like me," said Aisha as they stepped into the silver-doored elevator.

"Lizzie doesn't like any woman who draws the attention of the men away from her," explained Annette: "But she'll do what we tell her."


In the dining room, Aisha looked around for a suitable place to sit. Seeing a handsome forty-ish man sitting alone, she sashayed across to sit down and introduce herself:

"Hello, handsome, I'm Aisha."

"And I'm his wife, so shift it!" said a huge bear of a woman standing behind her.

"Sorry," said Aisha, standing again. She gave the man a lascivious wink before moving on.

On her third attempt, he found a tall grey-haired man of forty-something who was only too happy for the attention.

"My pleasure," he said, standing to pull out her chair for her.

"Thank you," said Aisha: "Handsome and a gentleman."

"Stephen Collins," he introduced himself.

"Aisha Derceto," she responded.

"I know," he said: "Everyone here knows your name."

"Only the men," corrected Lizzie swaying over: "What'll it be?"

"Steak well done, and vegetables," ordered Stephen.

"Fish for me, no vegetables," said Aisha, then to Stephen: "I rarely eat anything except seafood. Just a little meat and veg occasionally."

"Fascinating,' said Lizzie, sounding bored stupid.

Ignoring the brunette, they continued to make small talk throughout tea.

After tea, while most of the residents wandered off to the lounge room to watch TV, Aisha and Stephen headed toward the elevator together, hand in hand.

"Looks like Stevie's the lucky one to bag the Syrian beauty," said George, drawing glares from Annette and Lizzie.

"Maybe we should stop them?" suggested Annette.

"Good idea," agreed Lizzie.

"Why?" asked George: "It's none of our business what the residents get up to, as long as they're not wrecking the joint."


Aisha and Stephen made love for hours, until well after midnight. The Syrian beauty had the strong man mesmerised by her charms and her deep brown eyes. Although exhausted from their lovemaking, he was unable to resist when she lifted him to his feet, as though he were a store manikin, and suggested that they go outside to skinny dip.

"At this hour?" he muttered, too close to a mesmeric state to even wonder how she had lifted him from the bed.

"It will help to wake you up," said Aisha, almost carrying him into the corridor.

"Don't want to wake up," he muttered, but mechanically followed after her: "Want to go back to bed with you."

"Ah now, too much of a good thing," she teased him.

"To sleep," he corrected her.

Nonetheless, he allowed her to drag-carry him into the elevator, and then out into the garish blue-and-yellow-painted reception area.

In the lobby they hesitated a moment, to check that the Mulberrys weren't around, then Aisha scampered across to the front door, as good as carrying Stephen, where she struggled with the lock. Finally, she opened the door, cursing as an overhead bell ting-a-linged, then bent double to hurl Stephen Collins onto her back to race off into the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest, carrying the supine man effortlessly.

After more than an hour, she found herself at the sandy bank of the Yannan River, which many demons before her had called home over the last forty years or so.

After hurriedly undressing herself and then her victim, Aisha effortlessly threw Stephen Collins into the three-metre-deep water.

"What the fuck!" cried Collins, shocked awake by the freezing water.

"Surprise!" called Aisha, before diving into the murky water.

"It's cold enough to freeze my knackers off!" protested Stephen, finally fully awake.

You might be surprised! thought Aisha swimming around him, teasing him with her probing fingers.

"Honey, the sex was great, but this is insane!"

Teasingly, the Syrian beauty bit him, none-too-gently upon the buttocks!

"Hey!" he protested, spinning around; which presented his rampant penis and large testicles to the woman.

Opening her mouth almost impossibly wide, Aisha swam forward to swallow his genitals whole, testes, and penis alike.

"What the..." said Stephen, thinking she was going to give him an underwater blowjob -- although he had started to wonder how long she had been underwater without coming up for air.

Closing her mouth, Aisha bit down hard, making Stephen scream as she chewed off his manhood.

"Jesus Christ!" shrieked Stephen Collins as Aisha finally surfaced, revealing her large busted human top, and her scaly mermaid tail where her legs had recently been.

"You stupid cunt what have you done to me?" demanded the man as red blood streamed to the surface of the Yannan River from the gash where his manhood had been.

Aisha ignored the castrated man as she relished the taste of his genitals which she chewed slowly, finally swallowing.

"I told you I sometimes eat meat and two veg as the British say."

"You fucking freak!" he shouted, before collapsing from agony and blood loss.

"How dare you?" the mermaid shouted back at him: "I am a Goddess! The Goddess Derceto from Syrian mythology! Goddesses need blood sacrifices sometimes, and you are mine, Stephen Collins! You should be honoured to have died for such a noble purpose!"

However, it would be another forty minutes before he finally died. Aisha stayed with him for that time to ensure that he did die, then slowly climbed out of the murky waters.

As she arose from the waters, her long, green, scaly tail retracted and soon turned back into two long, sensuous human legs.

Not wanting to put her clean clothes on over her Yannan-water-soiled body, Aisha, picked them up and carried them with her as she raced naked through the pine and eucalyptus forest to reach the Dorset Hotel before dawn started to break.

At the hotel, she struggled with the front door and thought at first that she was locked out. Then she managed to get the door to open. She poked her head around the door to make certain the reception area was empty, then raced inside. She had just reached the bottom of the staircase when the elevator door chinged open. Gasping in surprise, Aisha raced up the steps three at a time to be well out of sight by the that time Annette and George Mulberry stepped out of the elevator and headed across to the dining room, followed by a sleepy, yawning Lizzie Enrich.

Upstairs the Syrian goddess raced naked down the corridor to her bedroom door.

What the...? thought a tall, ox-like man, Ferdie Greenwich, opening his door and gazing in delighted surprise at the naked woman racing down the corridor: I'm gonna have me a piece of that tomorrow night!

Unaware that it was Aisha Derceto who would have a piece of him!


At the breakfast table the next morning, Colin was trying to read the Melbourne Recorder, with Terri kibitzing over his shoulder, reading and occasionally offering unwanted comments. Beside them, Sheila Bennett was listening to her MP3 player through headphones, mouthing the words of the songs.

"What the Hell is she listening to?" asked Tommy Turner.

"Damned if I know," said Freddy Kingston.

Removing the headphones as Deidre Morton placed a plate of vegemite crumpets in front of her, Sheila said:

"The latest song, by my favourite group..."

"The Devil's Advocates!" called everyone else.

"Oh, I've told you?" said Sheila, going on to sing:

"I love a really hot woman

"With a really large chest,

"A really hot mamma

"Who loves me the best,

"She's a hot little chickadee

"Who passes all tests

"She's my really hot woman

"With a truly huge chest!"

"Well, they're subtle," teased Natasha Lipzing.

"Why are they so obsessed with women with huge chests?" asked Terri.

"They're men ... we all are," said Tommy.

"For once he's right," seconded Colin, getting a glare from Terri and a laugh from Sheila.


At the Dorset Hotel, Aisha Derceto had just sat down to a breakfast of two kippered herring, when Ferdie Greenwich plonked his oversized derriere on the chair next to her, uninvited and whispered:

"I saw you last night!"

"Last night?" asked Aisha innocently.

"Running naked through the corridor carrying your clothing ... As though you had been up to something questionable."

"I had just been out for a little skinny dip. I didn't want to get my clothes wet and was afraid the Mulberry's might not understand. Especially since that bitch, Lizzie doesn't seem to like me."

"Then hows about you and me go out skinny dipping together tonight."

"I'd be delighted," said Aisha truthfully. Then disingenuously: "How could I refuse the offer from such a strong, handsome man."

"Okay then," said Ferdie, grinning idiotically; pleasantly surprised that she had agreed so readily. He had expected to have to threaten her.

Aisha smiled back at the ox-like man, knowing that he thought that he had outsmarted her; unaware he was about to become her next victim.

"How about 11 PM?" she asked.

"Perfect," he agreed: "I'll wait for you at the bottom of the stairs ... Don't be late!"

"Oh I won't," said Aisha truthfully: "I'm looking forward to it."


"This should do nicely, Sister Anna," said Mother Maria as the two nuns walked along the sandy shore of the Yannan River, carrying a wicker basket with a packed breakfast between them. Despite its polluted state, the river was the closest thing to a beach in the local area.

Sister Anna, the younger of the two nuns, also carried a crocheted rug for them to sit on. After putting down the basket, she laid out the rug, and then they put the basket on the rug and sat down.

Opening the basket, they removed two packages of food wrapped in tinfoil. After saying grace, Mother Maria started to eat from a small bowl of still-warm porridge and treacle. While Sister Anna, like Sheila Bennett, tucked into some vegemite crumpets.

"Delicious," said Sister Anna, watching as what she first took to be a rotting log floated down the river toward them.

"What are you looking at, Sister?" asked Mother Maria, starting to turn to look; as Sister Anna saw what it really was and started to scream as the castrated corpse of Stephen Collins floated toward them.


At the Yellow House, they had almost finished breakfast when the telephone in the corridor rang.

"I'll get it," said Tommy Turner, standing up to go out into the hallway.

After a minute or so he returned to announce: "Two hysterical nuns at the Yannan River claim a castrated male corpse just floated up to them."

"I hope this isn't the beginning of one of your disgusting jokes, Tommy Turner!" chided Deidre Morton.

"No, for real," insisted Tommy.

Although not convinced, Terri Scott went out to the phone to talk. After five or six minutes, she returned to announce:

"For once it isn't one of Tommy's disgusting jokes. Mother Maria and Sister Anna from St. Margaret's swear they were having breakfast on the banks of the Yannan when the corpse floated up to them. They think it's Stephen Collins, one of their parishioners."

"Doesn't he live at the Dorset in LePage?" asked Natasha Lipzing.

"Lived, if it's him," corrected Colin as they got up to head outside.


Forty minutes or so later, they pulled up at the banks of the Yannan to find two other police cars there, with Greta Goddard (a tall, shapely silver-blonde, who had turned 69 in 2024 and only worked part-time), Hilly Hindmarsh (another pro-rata policewoman: Hilly was 56 in early 2024. A tall, buxom, Teutonic blonde), Paul Bell (a tall wiry man in his fifties), and Stanlee Dempsey (a huge bear of a man with shoulder-length black hair), standing around as Jesus Costello (pronounced 'Hee-Zeus', the administrator and chief Surgeon of the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital), Tilly Lombstrom (an attractive fifty-something brunette, Jesus's second in command), and Elvis Green (the local coroner, nicknamed due to his devotion to the late King of Rock and Roll) examined the corpse, which they had pulled to shore. Mother Maria and Sister Anna were being sedated by two nurses Topaz Moseley (a gorgeous thirty-something platinum blonde), and Leo Laxman (a forty-ish night-black man born in Jamaica).

"Good evening ... fre-ends..." said Sheila, giving the worst possible Arthur Askey impersonation.

"That's all we need,' said Elvis: "A retard arriving, while we're examining a castrated corpse."

"I resent that," teased Sheila, pretending to be offended.

"Have you worked out who it is yet?" asked Colin.

"It's definitely Stephen Collins," said Tilly.

"Time of death?" asked Terri hopefully.

"Not that long ago," said Jesus: "Perhaps eight to ten hours ... So say between 10 PM and midnight last night. And he was definitely castrated."

"Any idea what with?" asked Stanlee Dempsey who had wandered over.

"Teeth," said Tilly: "Something or someone chewed everything away."

"Was he alive or dead at the time?" asked Sheila.

"Alive ... we think," said Elvis: "But we won't know for sure until we perform the autopsy."

"If it was an animal, it's strange that it only ate his genitals," said Colin: "That's something more like what a degenerate person would do ... some fetishistic moron!"

"That's what we think," said Tilly: "But we'll need Doc Kaddich to confirm the teeth were human." Referring to the local dentist.

"Okay, we've done everything we can here," said Jesus, standing up: "Let's get the corpse to G.H. Hospital."

By then the two Nuns had already been taken to the hospital; leaving just the corpse of Stephan Collins to be transported.

"If it's a person," said Colin: "It's strange he made no attempt to destroy or disguise the face."

"Agreed," said Tilly.

"Strong Arm, Chezza," said Sheila to the two paramedics who ferried the corpse toward the Ambulance: Derek Armstrong a tall black man in his forties; Cheryl Pritchard, at sixty-three the senior paramedic of the BeauLarkin to Willamby area. Both were bodybuilders who spent their Saturdays at the Muscle Up Gym in Glen Hartwell, in the company of their close friend Sheila.

"Sheils," they both responded.


It was another thirty-five minutes before the police arrived at the Dorset Hotel in LePage.

"Did you notice he was missing at breakfast?" asked Terri Scott.

"Yes," said Annette: "But he doesn't ... didn't always have breakfast, so we thought nothing of it."

"Besides, mealtimes are always hectic," said Lizzie Enrich: "We don't have time to worry about who's there and who's not."

"But after breakfast?" asked Colin.

"After breakfast, we make the beds," said Lizzie: "I did his room and noticed it was made. But some of the guests help out by making their own beds..."

"So you didn't think anything of it?" Sheila finished for her.

"No."

They continued to interview the Mulberrys and Lizzie, plus the guests until noon, before leaving.

"Well, that was a whole lotta nothing," said Sheila as they returned to Terri's police-blue Lexus.

"Is that another song by the Devi's Advocates?" teased Terri as Sheila started the car.

"Sure is," said Sheila, before singing:

"You're a whole lotta nothing

"In my life

"You're never gonna get to

"Be my wife

"You're nothing but trouble

"Trouble and strife

"Babe you're never gonna get to

"Be my wife!"

"Another certified hit," teased Colin.

"That's what I think," said Sheila, missing the sarcasm.


At the Dorset Hotel, the Mulberrys and Lizzie returned inside, as Aisha Derceto stepped outside to watch the departing Lexus.

"What ya thinking, gorgeous?" asked Ferdie Greenwich walking up to her.

"Just hoping the police aren't going to cause any trouble."

"What kinda trouble?" asked Ferdie, genuinely puzzled.

Thinking fast the Syrian beauty said: "For us and our little tête-à-tête tonight."

"Our what?"

"Our little rendezvous," she explained. Then when he stared, puzzled at her: "Our skinny dip session tonight."

"I hope you're not trying to chicken out!" demanded Ferdie

"Of course not, handsome," said Aisha truthfully, running a hand seductively across his bristly face: "I'm just worried the police might try to stop us."

"It's none of their fuckin' business!"

"No, you're right," agreed Aisha; not protesting as Ferdie placed a hand on her curvaceous backside and squeezed. I can take care of the police! she thought: I am a goddess! They are mere mortals!


On the dot of 11:00 PM Aisha and Ferdie met by the glass front door of the Dorset Hotel.

"Right on time," said Ferdie: "Let's get out of here."

"Yes, the blue and yellow reception area is creeping me out," said Aisha. Then, with a laugh, she raced outside crying: "Catch me if you can, handsome."

"Oh, you wanna play games," called the ox-like man mildly amused, very annoyed. All he wanted was a long rough sex session with or without any skinny-dipping.

"Catch me if you can!" she taunted, laughing as she raced through the pine and eucalyptus-scented forest.

"I'll catch you and screw you half to death!" shouted Ferdie; part amused, but mainly angered by her behaviour.

"You've got to catch me before you can screw me at all," teased the Syrian Beauty.

"I'll fuck you till you're begging for mercy!" shouted Ferdie.

"Promises, promises," teased Aisha with a laugh.

"I promise to wreck all of your holes when I finally catch you!" shouted the big man, starting to get very angry.

"Not, my poor holes," she said with another laugh.

"Yes, your poor holes, all three of them!"

"Catch me if you can!" she taunted again, laughing as she raced on; careful not to run too fast. She didn't want to lose the ox-like man or lose his interest.

For nearly an hour they raced through the forest, Ferdie shouting erotic threats, Aisha, teasing him. Until finally, Ferdie came to a small clearing where, to his relief, he found the Syrian beauty standing naked, waiting for him.

"Which hole are you going to wreck first?" she asked.

"Your cunt; get on your back!"

"You're the boss," she said, hurrying to obey, trying not to snicker at the suggestion that Ferdie was in charge.

The big man virtually threw himself on top of the beautiful woman, not wasting time with either subtlety or foreplay. In moments he was thrusting in and out of her, grunting like the ox that he so resembled; ironically since oxen are merely castrated bulls!

Not hurt when his great weight landed on her, the goddess lay still, assuming correctly that he wouldn't want her to do anything else while he rutted away.

All too soon for Aisha's liking Ferdie finished, ejaculating a mere dribble into her. Typical, all speed and no result! she thought, careful not to say so aloud; not out of fear of being hurt by him - as a goddess, she could have picked him up and tossed him two hundred metres through the forest-; however, she was not yet finished with the big man.

"On ya hands and knees next!" ordered Ferdie.

"Yours to command!" teased Aisha, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Spreading her generous buttocks apart, after struggling to get erect again, Ferdie pushed forward fighting to penetrate her ample backside, despite the goddess relaxing her sphincter as much as possible. So much for wrecking all of my holes! thought Aisha, gasping in surprise as he finally penetrated her anus with his glands, before struggling to proceed any further.

Although feeling nothing much, she 'ooed and aaed' suitably to play on his ego in the hope that it might improve his performance this time. A lot of these, huge bull-like men are really butt-boys! she thought.

Finally, he managed to penetrate her backside to the hilt, but then, like John Holmes in the 1970s, he had to ring the base of his penis with his thumb and forefinger to maintain an erection. Wish I had a cock ring with me! he thought. However, he had promised to wreck all of the beauty's holes that night and was determined to do so no matter what.

After a few minutes, Ferdie came again, ejaculating another mere dribble; again all too soon for Aisha's liking.

Going around in front of the kneeling woman, Ferdie held his shit-and-blood-stained penis up to her face and ordered:

"Open wide hotstuff!"

He was ready to slap her about if he had to, knowing from experience that that was necessary to get most women to take it straight from the arse into the mouth. However, Aisha opened her mouth wide on command and swallowed his manhood, penis, and testicles to the balls.

"Now that's more like it!" said Ferdie, thinking he had the dark beauty's spirit broken ...

Until she chewed down hard, starting to bite through the flesh and gristle to savagely remove his genitalia from his body.

"You fucking cunt!" shrieked Ferdie in shock and agony. He leapt forward to smash her in the face with his fists, then instead passed out from shock.

Aisha slowly chewed his savoury goodies for more than five minutes before swallowing, a look of heavenly bliss upon her face the entire time. Finally, she looked at the unconscious castrato and said:

"According to Stephen King, all women are just life-support systems for cunts."

Laughing at her own joke, the goddess sat beside the dying man, stroking his hair gently as he died; singing an ancient Syrian ditty which her followers had sung to her in æons past.

"Sleep peacefully fallen hero .. in your eternal sleep dreaming forever of me!" Aisha said, as she finally stood and started at a run back through the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest, to reach the Dorset Hotel well before dawn this time.

This time she got inside and made it back to her room without being spotted by anyone.


It was almost noon the next day when they heard back from Doc Kaddich:

"Okay," said Terri, disconnecting her phone. Then to the others in the Mitchell Street Police Station: "That was Doc Kaddich."

"What's he say?" asked Colin.

"He says he thinks they possibly could be, maybe human teeth marks ... perhaps."

"Gee, he likes to nail it down doesn't he," teased Sheila, sitting at the long black desk which took up a large section of the front room of the police station.

"He says they look human, yet somehow don't."

"Meaning?" asked Colin.

"Umm, you've got me there," admitted Terri.


Tony Lombardo, a tall forty-five-year-old man, who looked ten years younger, was doing his usual five-kilometre jog before lunch when he stumbled across the castrated remains of Ferdie Greenwich.

"Oh, my God!" he said, turning away to throw up.

It was nearly two minutes later before he was up to reaching for his mobile phone to ring triple-O.


Terri and co. were just leaving to return to the Yellow House for lunch when Tony rang through to them.

"Calm down," advised Terri, doing her best to get the facts from the hysterical man. Finally, she disconnected and said: "That was Tony Lombardo; he's found another castrated body in the forest.

"He would find it just before lunch," complained Sheila, as they headed out to the blue Lexus.


Half an hour later, with the help of GPS tracking on Tony's phone, Terri and Co. alighted in the forest not far from where Ferdie's remains lay. As they arrived they heard the sound of sirens and two ambulances soon pulled up beside them.

"Howdy Doody one and all," said Sheila, by way of greeting the medical personnel.

"We've heard back from Doc Kaddich," said Jesus Costello, alighting from one of the ambulances.

"Us too," said Colin: "He was remarkably unhelpful."

"Even by his usual low standards," teased Sheila.

The police stood around nattering while Jesus, Tilly Lombstrom, and Elvis Green examined Ferdie Greenwich.

"So what's the verdict?" asked Terri.

"No doubt about it,' said Elvis: "Someone or something has chewed his goodies off just like the other bloke"

"You oughta go into partnership with Doc Kaddich," teased Sheila.

"Sorry, that's all we're prepared to say at this time," said Jesus. He signalled to Derek Armstrong, and Cheryl Pritchard to collect the body.

"So what's next, Chief?" Sheila asked Terri.

"Time to call for Totty Rampling to come down to check out the corpses?" asked Colin Klein.

"Possibly," said Terri, undecided: "Or possibly it's time to get Russell Street to send an expert down from the Violent Crimes Unit. But first, let's go get some lunch at Mrs. M.'s."

"Sounds good to me," said Sheila, leading the way back to the Lexus.


That night at tea, Aisha was looking round the dining room to try to select her night's playmate, when it started to pelt with rain. She looked to the heavens, knowing that her night's activities would have to be curtailed.

"Does it always rain this much in April in Victoria?" she asked Lizzie.

"Nah," said the brunette: "Usually April is the Goldilocks month in Vic.; not too hot, not too cold ... But we've had goofy weather so far in 2024."

Dammit! thought the goddess. Although she did not have to kill every night, she preferred to where possible. Male genitalia were like a youth tonic to her, having allowed her to stay young for millennia.

She waited up until midnight, in case the rain stopped; then, frustrated, went off to bed.


At 8:45 the next morning, Terri, Colin, and Sheila were waiting at the platform on the Theobald Street Railway Station in Glen Hartwell. After considering her options, Terri had decided to ring Totty Rampling, a wildlife biologist at the Melbourne Wildlife Safari Park, as well as Russell Street for an inspector from the Violent Crimes Unit, Police Captain Diaco Fadel.

As usual, the train was fifteen minutes late, so it was 9:15 when they finally heard the whistle of the approaching steam train.

"I'm sure Vic Rail prints their timetables just as one long joke," said Sheila.

"April Fools all year long," suggested Colin.

"Exactly," agreed Sheila as they finally caught sight of the train.

"It'll be good to see Tots again," said Colin as the train pulled into the station.

"Down boy," teased Terri holding up her left hand to show him her engagement ring.

After the train stopped, forty or so people alighted, including a tall, shapely thirty-something brunette with two large suitcases.

"Tots!" shouted Sheila, as they raced down the platform to help her with her cases.

"Sheils!" sad Totty, giving each of the three police officers in turn a big hug.

"So how do we recognise this inspector bloke from Russell Street?"' asked Colin.

"Well, his name's Diaco Fadel," said Sheila: "So look for a short, swarthy bloke with dark eyes."

"Sorry to disappoint you,' teased the tall, blonde, blue-eyed man coming up to them: "But Syria, my birth land is multi-cultural, like Australia ... We come in all shapes and sizes."

"Sorry," apologised Sheila, making them all laugh at her embarrassment.


An hour later, Totty and Diaco had booked into the Yellow House in Merridale, and they were at the morgue in the basement of the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.

After examining both corpses, Totty said:

"Well ... I'd say there's certainly some chance of the perp. being human; at least a possibility ... But I wouldn't like to say for certain."

"You, Doc Kaddich, and Elvis should all go into partnership," teased Sheila: "Kaddich, Green, and Rampling, the no-committal specialists .. kind of."

"How come I get last billing?" protested Totty.

"You're the youngest."

"How about you, Diaco, any theories?" asked Terri.

"In my homeland, we have a legend of a Goddess Atargatis, whose male followers used to castrate themselves for her, so she could devour their genitals, which gave her extended youth Until King Abgar became a Christian and commanded that anyone who emasculated himself should have a hand cut off. And from that day to the present no one in Urhâi emasculates himself anymore."

"So you're saying Stephen Collins and Ferdie Greenwich were both followers of this Goddess Atargatis?" asked Colin.

"Or driven out of Syria, Atargatis has found her way to Australia to continue devouring men's genitalia."

Everyone else in the morgue laughed; until noticing that Diaco Fadel was not laughing.

"You aren't serious?" asked Terri.

"Why are you surprised?" asked the captain: "From what I've been told you've had far stranger things happen in the Glen Hartwell area, going back to the early 1980s."

"Yeah, but...?" started Terri, stopping as she realised that he was right.


That night, Aisha had arranged a tryst in the night, with a part-time caretaker-cum-handyman at the Dorset Hotel, Harold Menkle, a tall, powerfully built redheaded man in his late forties.

It was barely 11:00 PM when they started out, carrying a blanket in case the ground was still wet from the previous night's rain. This time Aisha did not waste time teasing, but merely led her intended victim a kilometre or so into the sweet-smelling pine-and-eucalyptus forest.

They had barely set out when two police cars arrived outside the Dorset hotel.

"You think he must be staying here?" asked Colin.

"Since both victims lived here, yes," said Diaco as they walked into the hotel.

Although usually the reception area was left untended at night, they had rung ahead and arranged for the Mulberrys to be waiting for them.

Wasting no time Diaco asked the Mulberrys: "Have you had any new arrivals book in just before the two murders."

"Only Aisha," said George Mulberry.

"Aisha?" asked Diaco.

"Aisha Derceto."

Diaco gasped, then said: "Atargatis is also known as Derceto."

"Is she upstairs?" asked Colin.

"No, she just went outside," said George: "We saw her leaving as we came out of the lift."

"Did she have anyone with her?" asked the Police Captain.

"We didn't see," said Annette.

"So if this Atargatis-Derceto is a Goddess," said Terri, making the Mulberrys stare at her: "Can we kill her, by shooting her?"

"Of course not," said Diaco: "Goddesses cannot be killed. The best we can do is use a ritual to send her back to ancient Syria where she belongs."

"Don't suppose you know such a ritual?" asked Terri.

"Of course," said Diaco: "I brought all of the paraphernalia we need with me from Melbourne."

"So you already figured it was Atargatis-Derceto?" asked Sheila.

"I was certain of it," said Diaco as he started to lay out the paraphernalia upon the reception room floor: "Although I was careful not to mention that to my superiors in Russell Street ... I like being a Captain of Police."


Out in the forest, Aisha laid down the blanket on the slightly damp pine needles and eucalyptus leaves and quickly shimmied out of her clothes, before helping Harold Menkle out of his.

"I assure you, you will have the greatest sex of your life."

"I hope so," said Harold, allowing her to undress him. He didn't mention that he'd only had sex three times in his life so far.

Aisha was eager to taste his manhood, but did not want to frighten him off, so first she lay down on the blanket, and gently pulled the big man onto and into her, to begin their lovemaking.


"Can we help?" asked Terri, as Diaco started the ritual.

"Yes, sit down and keep quiet until I'm finished."

"What if we need a pee?" asked Sheila.

"Go, now, please," instructed Diaco, trying his best not to show his frustration: "And please be quiet."


Out in the forest, Harold Menkle was indeed having the best sex of his life, thrusting deeply in and out of the voluptuous goddess, while caressing both of her generous breasts with his large hands.

"Yes, yes, ride me like your own private love pony!" cried Aisha.

"Shouldn't we be on our hands and knees for that?" asked Harold.

After considering, Aisha quickly climbed out from under the big man and got on her hands and knees. Harold gave her a hard slap on each attractive butt cheek, before slipping back inside her to resume their frantic lovemaking.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" shrieked Aisha as he ejaculated inside her, bringing her to her greatest climax in centuries.

Gasping in delight, the goddess was a little reluctant to kill the stud. However, having missed a meal the night before, she decided she could not afford to be sentimental. And she knew from æons' experience that forming a lasting relationship with a mortal never worked.

So, turning around to face the panting man, Aisha said: "Now I am going to suck the sap right out of your manly body!"


At the Dorset Hotel, Diaco performed his ritual all alone, the others having moved to the dining room to have tea or coffee. He was reaching a crucial part in the ritual and was pleased not to have them quipping while he was trying to concentrate.


Out in the forest, Aisha gaped her mouth almost impossibly wide and slowly advanced upon her intended prey ... until suddenly she jerked backwards a few centimetres as though grabbed from behind.

Spinning around she looked for the perpetrator, however, there was no one there.

"What's wrong?" asked Harold Menkle, eager to receive the first blowjob of his life.

"I'm not sure ... I thought..." began Aisha

Suddenly she was pulled backwards half a metre or more.

"What's happening?" asked Harold.

"I don't...?" began the goddess; then strange yellow-grey clouds formed above her.

With a massive tug, the unseen force pulled her off her feet. straight up into the air, while still in a kneeling position.

"What...?" cried Harold, frustrated and shocked, unaware of the lucky escape that he had just had; as he watched a screaming Aisha pulled up into the swirling mini-tornado of yellow-grey clouds which crackled like lightning, then slowly began rising into the air, taking the Syrian beauty away with them.

"No!" shrieked Derceto ... Her last words in modern-day Australia, before landing back in her birthplace in ancient Syria.


Finished all he could do, Diaco Fadel packed up his paraphernalia and then walked into the dining room.

"How'd you do?" asked Sheila.

"Can't tell till either Derceto returns to the Hotel..."

"Or anyone with her does...?" Terri finished for him.

"Exactly."

It was nearly an hour later when a shocked Harold Menkle staggered in through the front doorway to tell a rambling account of what had happened a kilometre or so away.

"I was lucky to find my way back at all in the dark. And I was just gonna get a blow from her."

They all exchanged looks before Sheila said: "That would have been the worst blow of your life!"

"Looks like my superiors at Russell Street were right," said Diaco: "They warned me, that you're all a half-mad pack of goofballs; but somehow you always seem to get the job done."

"I don't know whether to be pleased or offended,' said Terri.

"Personally I'm easily pleased," said Sheila, making them all laugh.

THE END
© Copyright 2024 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia