Erotica Readers & Writers Association
Home | Erotic Books | Authors Resources | Inside The Erotic Mind | Erotica Gallery
Adult Movies | Sex Toys | Erotic Music | Email Discussion List | Links

Story Gallery | Treasure Chest

*  Erotic Fiction
Queer Fiction
Kinky Erotica
The Softer Side

By Alan
Other News

By Alice Gray
Slick 50
Stolen Hour
The Fourth Veda

By Amanda Earl
Beating the Gothic Out of Her
Daddy Complex
Mercy and the Man. . .
Real Irish
Sex With An Old Woman
The Afternoon Circle Jerk Society
The Graffiti Artist
The Revenant
The Vampire Responds
The Vessel

By Ann Regentin
What Never Dies

By Arthur Chappell
Tedia, Goddess of Boredom
The Too Beautiful Boy

By Big Ed Magusson
Like a Brother
Old Dogs
The Fix

By B.K. Bilicki
Shades of Night

By Brady Sutton
Girls for Leash
The Peculiar Case of...

By C. Sanchez-Garcia
An Early Winter Train
Riding the Dog
Soul Naked
The Girl With Kisses...
The Doll
The Lady and The Unicorn
You Belong to Me

By Cervo
An Evening At...
Angel's Spawn
Are You Kidding?
Bitsy Takes a Test
Chinchilla Lace
Cruising On A Sea...
Fridays At The Benoit
Mr. Merridawn's Hum
Quigley's Harvest
Readiness Is All
Touring Persephone

By Cherry Black
Face Down
Just A Simple Black Dress
Mrs. Priestly

By Chris Bridges
Passing Notes
The Whitechapel...

By Daddy X
A Woman in My Position
Carnival Ride
Never For Punishment
Nikki Didn't Like It
Size Matters

By Dominic Santi
Kiss of Peace

By G. E. Russell
First Love, Last Romance
Judgement Day
Snow White
The Glass Cage
This Desolate Eden
You Like It Like That...

By Helen E. H. Madden
Going Viral
Husbands and Wives
Neighbor of the Beast
Over the Rainbow
The Fifth Horseman
The Monster Beneath...
Virtual Love
When The Angels Fall

By Helena Settimana
Highway 69
The Space Between

By Huck Pilgrim
A Small Favor
Goodbye Roger
He Sends His Regrets
The Mentor

By J.T. Benjamin
Advice From Miss Millicent
Alternating Weekend
Secret Lives and Lusts
What are Friends For
Olivia's Ulterior Motive
The Baby Doll
The Journals of Chastity
The Question
Thornburg Sex Survey
Use Me
Zachary's Perfect Date

By Jill
A House On Fire?
It's About Sex
Maureen and Sheila...
Sheila Discusses ...

By john e
Ava's Honey
I Wish My Dick...
johnny's jackoff journal
Saturday Morning

By Julius
In Praise of Pussy
The Newcomer
Tight, Tighter, Tightest
You Rang Madam?

By Juniper Maclay
Lunch Break
Public Transportation
The Scientist

By Keziah Hill
Dutch Masters
Laying Down the Law
Strawberry Flavoured Joy
The Second Coming

By L.A. Smith
Both Hands
Missionary Position

By Lara Nickles

By Lilie Berlin
Color Less Ordinary
Naughty Little Girl

By Mike Kimera
Ask Alice
At the Adult Bookstore
Bar Snack
Deserving Ruth
Fucking Ugly
Happy Anniversary
It May Not be Art...
Living With It...
Mating Calls
Soft Option
Paying For It
Playing With Barney
Sex with Owen
Till Death Do Us Part
The Last Taboo
The Sisters

By Nan Andrews
At Rest
Spirit Guides

By Nick Nicholson
Grigore & Tatiana
Land of Smiles
The Room
The Uniform

By Nikki Isaak
A Rathskeller Jar
The Dread That Stained Kalos

By Oxartes
Androids Behaving Badly
Babylon Nights
Eat Your Veggies
Eclipse Sex
Fiend in Need Part II
I Am Not A Scorpion
Innocent Flower
Maybe You Can Go...
The Vow Part I
What Would Aristippus Think

By Raziel Moore
Invisible Lines (Novella)

The Whitechapel Horror
© 2003 by Chris Bridges

It was a black day indeed when my friend Mr.  Sherlock Holmes was called upon to aid in stopping the horrific deeds being done in Whitechapel.  Three prostitutes had been brutally slain and the police, never at their best with such things, were at odds with themselves.

I must admit I had grave misgivings myself.  While it was certainly true that Holmes was possibly the only man quick-witted and capable enough to catch the fiend responsible, and while Holmes was himself never happier than when he was investigating the strange and the peculiar, this case looked to be beyond even his powers.  What good deductive reasoning when all evidence points to the Devil himself?

On the morning he contacted me I was at the breakfast-table with my wife and such a trial it was.  Not the repast, which was excellent, but July of 1889 was leaving us with muggy weather and alleyway abominations.  The papers were full of the most sensational of reports and none of them were nearly as scandalous as the reality. "Shedding blood in England," indeed.  How could anyone decipher such a confusion of events? It was, of course, precisely at that point that the telegram from Holmes arrived.

"If you've some days to spare, your help would be invaluable.  Meet me in Middlesex Street on Tuesday at 2pm.  Take precautions."

My wife looked up in trepidation, the newspaper held in front of her. "You're not going out after that madman, are you?" she said.

"I fear so.  Holmes would be quite beside himself were he kept away from such an intriguing and bewildering case, and he'll need a stalwart friend at his back.  At least I'll be joining him in the day-time."

My dear wife argued for form's sake, but she knew me better than I knew myself.  In jig time I was packed and ready, my service revolver—my "precaution"—tucked safely away.  She kissed me deeply on our step, heedless of the passersby. "Return to me, John," she said plaintively.  I swore to her that I would, God willing.

Her expression as I left made it clear that any agency, celestial or otherwise, that dared interfere with our reunion would be making a terrible mistake.

And so it was with a gloomy mood that I took a hansom to Whitechapel and to Middlesex, more commonly known as Petticoat Lane.  I daresay it earned the sobriquet, for nowhere else in London could petticoats be seen more easily, and for less money.  Hardly had I alit from the carriage before I was approached by no less than three ladies of the evening, all apparently unaware it was hardly one o'clock.

"Polish y' knob, guv?" asked one bewigged horror, oblivious to my hastened refusals.  The others circled me, plucking at my coat and hat until I was forced to hold myself as if in a high wind.

"Please, ladies! I am here on official business!" Which was true, though I fear no respectable agency would claim me.  Unfortunately my protestations of authority failed to produce the effect I had hoped for.

The second of the three and arguably the ugliest was quick to grab my arm. "Oh, we giv' discounts to officers like, ain't that right?"

"Usually have to, cheap bastids," muttered the third soiled dove.  The other two were quick to motion her silent before turning their smiling faces back to me.

"Look, I really must refuse, I'm terribly sorry," I stammered.  This was absurd.  I was a doctor, a military man, trained in the arts of war and victor of countless night-time battles and terrifying rooftop chases, yet I was outflanked and outbluffed by three ladies of the eveni...  of the afternoon.  No wonder someone was killing them off, I thought with some disgust, and then I stood stock-still, horrified at my own thought.

In my paralysis the third prostitute, the younger and prettier of the three, seized the opportunity to pull me away from the other two. "Come on, then," she hissed. "They'll niver leave ya alone while ye've got coin in y' purse nor blood in yer stick.  Come off wif me, we'll pretend a bit, you toss me a few pence and a free man ye'll be, eh?"

I nodded assent swiftly and she all but yanked me off my feet towards the nearest alleyway.  My nice quiet home already seemed years in the past.  When we arrived in the stinking alley she pushed me against the wall and pushed her firm bosom against me.

"Now shut yer gob, luv," she said. "The harpies'll be watching, you wait.  Let's make this look proper." Before I could say another word she had dropped to her knees in the filth and run her hands over my trousers.

"Madam, please, this is entirely unnecess—"

"Ooh, got a gun do ya? Yer cert'ly not 'appy to see me, that's for sure.  Oh, 'ere's the lit'l divil," she said.  In seconds, and with hands more practiced than the Queen's surgeon, she had me out in the cool air and popped in her mouth before I could take another breath.

I must confess, I was undone.  I take full responsibility for this lapse in my judgment and moral certitude, and looking back in time I can see clearly that my worry and tension concerning the vile killings contributed to my acquiescence in no small measure, but God help me it felt wonderful.  She was skilled and efficient, as competent with her hands as any combat nurse, and I relaxed against the rough brick and submitted to the inevitable.  My only consolation was that I was over an hour early for my meeting with Holmes, who, being a long-confirmed bachelor himself, surely would not understand.

In moments it was over.  She accepted my seed with dispatch, cleaning me with her mouth before tucking me back safe and sound and considerably drained.  I was blushing a bright crimson when she rose to her feet and lowered her eyes before me.

"Yes, thank you, you really didn't have to..  oh! Yes, I almost forgot..." I blustered as I fumbled for my change.  What was the going rate? "Look, here, take this," I said as I pressed a ten pound note in her warm hands.  Here eyes popped.

"Cor, 'at's a bloody—"

"Yes, I know, please take it and tell everyone to please leave me alone for now, all right?" Even as she rushed to hide her booty I was scanning the streets, looking for my friend, half expecting to see a demonic shape leap out and gut someone before me. "Now go, quickly, I'm expecting someone and he'll be here any minute—"

"Or even earlier," came the familiar voice from behind me.

My blood ran cold in my veins.  Humiliating as my moral lapse was to myself, even doubly so was being caught at it by a respected friend.  Surely this was the sort of thing that tested the very mettle of friendship! Would he scorn me? Would he tell my wife? Still, this was the inestimable Sherlock Holmes, and he prized forthrightness over all With bravery more pronounced than any I showed in the War, I turned to face my accuser, and in so doing nearly became a soiled dove myself.

The young prostitute was gone.  In her place stood Holmes, in tattered dress, wig and shawl.  The impeccable makeup of a Dorset Street doxy was still in place, but he had added his familiar meerschaum pipe and was now standing straight and tall.  My money was still in his hand.

"Rather magnanimous of you, Watson.  For future reference, current street prices run closer to four pence for such an exchange, perhaps as much as a shilling if you fancy the girl." He tucked the bill into his bodice. "For expenses.  To the chase, what?"

Had he burst aflame and began dancing I could not have been more confused. "But Holmes!" I cried, mortified to the core. "How could you..."

"I've been here for a week, my old friend, learning the ways of the land and the habits of its unfortunate residents.  And making a fair bit of coin, as it seems that regular washing and the most basic dental care does wonders for the trade.  I must suggest it to the other women here before we leave."

"But...  but the killer?"

"Ah," Holmes said with a twinkle and a slight twirl. "It's obvious to the most casual observer that he'll not strike again this month or the next, but I have my suspicions regarding where we might find this bloodthirsty fiend. Good thing you brought your revolver," he declared, and he patted the front of my trousers as he stalked off down the alleyway.

Befuddled beyond belief, I followed.

Next week, chapter two: The Fiendish Plan.

© 2003 Chris Bridges.  All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio:  Who is Chris Bridges? Read his bio on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website.

Authors live for feedback!
If you enjoyed this story, please send comments to
Chris Bridges 


  E-mail this page

Search ERWA Website:

Copyright 1996 and on, Erotica Readers Association, Inc.
All Rights Reserved World Wide. Reproduction in whole or in part in any form or
medium without express written permission is prohibited.

By Riccardo Berra
Ligne Claire
The Girl with Two Lovers

By Remittance Girl
Fixed in Amber
I Waited for You...
Pleasure's Apprentice
The Baptism
The Central Registry
The Other Side
The River Mother
Things Better Left Unsaid

By Richard V Raiment 
Ghosts of Christmas Past
Recalled to Life

By Robert Buckley
A Fragile Desire
A Weekend in Queens..
Absentee Ballots
Adam and Eve on a Raft
An Unconventional Friendship
Bench Mates
Brotherhood Of The ...
Close to Hand
Coins For The Ferryman
Convenience Store
Cthulhu's Toad
Dead Man's Switch
Does Immortality come with a Pension?
Embraceable Ewe
Excess Of Light
Extraordinary Graces
Head Games
Making Her Late For...
Mere Moments
Practicing Lovecraft
Pre Need
Seeing Is Believing
Smells Like Money
Surviving Winter
The Angel of Loneliness
The Dog Park
The Exchange
The Great Sin
The Mission
They Need Me
What Now?
You Get What You Pay For
You're the Only One

By Robert GSK
Still Life

By Rose B. Thorny
Only When It Rains
Power and Glory
The Thing Under the...

By Savannah
Naked Ambition
The Principal of the Thing

By Sidney Durham
I'm Only Shaving!
Junk Yard Goddess
Santa, Baby!
Sometimes I Can ...
Speaking of Escher
The Road Not Taken

By Tulsa Brown
Debt of Honor
Flesh On A Woman
Half Moon Girl

By Valentine Bonnaire
American Daddy-O
Bing Cherry Silk
Bukowski Girls
Colony, Collapsed
Have a Nice Day
l'heure bleue
Once Upon A Time . . .
Red Suede
Yellow, like the daffodils

By William Dean
A Hand in the Bush
Burning Man
Buy Me Something
Forest for the Trees
Great Notion
Kiss Me And Then...
Political Asylum
Port Said
Stranger in the Bonfire
Swap Meet
Switch Back
Twisted Faith

Screen Play
by A.F. Waddell

A Filing Fling
by Addison Long

Menage A Cart
by Adhara Law

Elevator Shaft
by Alana James

Torn in Two
by Alicia Night Orchid

by Angela Caperton

The Lady-killer
by BJ Franklin

The Vacation
by Beth Vox

Frostbite the Ice Pimp
by Chuck Lovepoe

The Accidental Fetish
by Corvidae

So Much in Common
by Daphne Dubonet

Unjust Rewards
by Delores Swallows

The Hand & I.
by EllaRegina

Safari Tuesday
by G. Gregory

The Puss Hater
by Inna Spice

One for the Road
by J. Corvo

Full Serviced
by J.D. Coltrane

Naked Over New York
by J.Z. Sharpe

The Chocolate Wife
by James Robert Sands

Once Shy
by Jamie Smithe

by Jean Roberta

Caitlin Comes Clean
by Jerry Rightson

Something To Make...
by Jim Parr

Melanie and Jay Go...
by jtallen

Peeping George
by Jude Mason

It's Lovely. It's Horrible.
by Kathleen Bradean

The Temp
by Kaye Heche

A Husband's Lesson
by Kim Bax

Better Than a Blow...
by Lauren Mills

Page 12 - No. F
by LilyOrchid

In The Name Of...
by Michael Michele

The Classics
by Nettie Kestler

The Wounded Healer
by Nicholas M.

by Nick Santa Rosa

The Cabin
by P. E. Brink

Post Mortem
by Riccardo Berra

The Right Man
by Sam Thorne

Newly Reformed Woman...
by Seneca Mayfair

by Sybil Rush

by Teresa Lamai

Alter Christus
by Teresa Wymore

Shadows of De La Rosa
by Tori Diaz