The Giant Rat of Sumatra Part XI

Theodore Wilson was a hairbrush and comb travelling salesman from London.

He travelled the country selling his wares.

And like a sailor, he had a woman in every port.

Sonia was the name of his woman in Stamford- Theodore reflected as he downed the mug of pale ale in the pub of Stamford's George Inn.

Although technically Sonia wasn't really from Stamford. She lived in Easton-On-The-Hill a village a few miles southwest of Stamford.

But she was the hottest and friskiest of all his women around the country.

She was always willing to have sex.

And Theodore liked that.

He craved sex. It was almost like he was addicted to it.

Tiger in the woods entered his mind.

Strange why that should enter his mind.

For Theodore Wilson had encountered a tiger in the woods earlier in the day while he was walking in the woods near the Burghley House Estate just outside of Stamford.

The Burghley House had been built by William Cecil the First Lord Burghley (1520-1598) who had served as Secretary of State and later Lord High Treasurer for Queen Elizabeth the First. Burghley House was regarded by many as the finest standing Elizabethan House in England.

There were also impressive looking woods on the grounds of the Burghley House Estate so Theodore Wilson was quite surprised to see a tiger standing there.

"Krakatoa! Krakatoa!" a man had shouted at the tiger.

Krakatoa?

Theodore Wilson was stunned.

Was a volcanic eruption about to occur in these woods as well?

The tiger ran towards the man shouting Krakatoa.

Soon a group of men had put a leash and chain on the tiger.

When Wilson had returned to the George Inn, he had heard there was currently a circus in town which would be staying a fortnight.

The circus had set up tents and caravans in the Meadows just across the other side of the River Welland from the George Inn.

That would explain the tiger in the woods Wilson thought.

Now back to sex Wilson thought.

Sex and Sonia.

Those were the two thoughts that occupied Wilson's mind now.

Sonia was a voluptuous redhead with a huge pair of coconuts in front.

He remembered he had almost lost Sonia as a port of entry here in Stamford last year.

Apparently on his visit before that he had promised Sonia a fur coat, a sudden exuberant promise Wilson had made to her in a passionate moment of coitus un-interruptus.

Wilson had of course forgotten all about the promise when he showed up at her doorstep in Easton-On-The-Hill last year.

Sonia had sworn at him and slammed the door in his face.

Never mind coitus un-interruptus or coitus interruptus. This looked to be a case of coitus never get off the ground-us at the moment.

Wilson went back to the George Inn feeling extremely depressed.

Not to mention sexually frustrated.

How the Hell could he afford a fur coat?

Wilson walked through the town of Stamford.

As he walked around town, he noticed there seemed to be a fair amount of cats around Stamford.

Hm, Wilson thought to himself.

Cats have fur.

And he had plenty of experience with skinning and taxidermy.

Hm, Wilson thought to himself.

Why not? Wilson thought.

Desperate times require desperate measures.

As he had once told a young Harrow schoolboy named Winston Churchill.

So Wilson had become a cat killer in Stamford last year.

In fact he gathered that folks this year were still talking about the mysterious Stamford Cat Killer who killed cats and skinned their fur.

Wilson understood that cats were disappearing around Stamford this spring as well. Only this time they were completely disappearing. No skinned bodies left behind.

Wilson went and knocked on the door of Sonia's house in Easton-On-The-Hill last year.

She shrieked with delight when she saw the fur coat that he was giving her.

And he shrieked with delight when he saw the little bit of fur that she was now giving him.



* * *




But that was last year of course.

That was then.

This was now.

And now Sonia would be meeting him here at the George Inn.

For a night of wild passionate and kinky lovemaking.

Williams stood at the entrance to the garden of the George Inn.

It was a warm spring night.

So Williams thought he would wait in the garden and watch his beloved's approach from the southwest- from Easton-On-The-Hill.





* * *



But Sonia wouldn't be approaching from Easton-On-The-Hill.

She was in Stamford's High Street planning a surprise of her own.

She had bought some lovely new lingerie and a lovely blue dress.

She put it on in the women's clothing shop and gave her old dress away to a church bazaar that was raising funds for charity.

She then stopped off in Alistair Campbell's Meat Pie Shop to buy some of his delicious meat pies so she and her Theo could share them together.

Campbell seemed to be hung over which was strange she thought because it was at 8 at night and not at 8 in the day.

He was busy mumbling something about the Antichrist being in town as she bought the pies.

She left the shop and wrapped the fur coat (that Theo had given her last year) tightly around her shoulders even though it was a warm spring night.

She felt a chill for some reason.

She didn't know why.

As she walked down one of the narrow cobbled stone alleyways to get from High Street to St. Mary's Street and then to the intersection of St. Mary's Street and St. John's Street where she would then walk down to the Wharf Road Intersection and then cross the St. Martin's Street bridge across the River Welland to get to the George Inn.

As she walked down the alleyway, groups of cats surrounded her.

They meowed and meowed and tried to jump on the fur of her coat.

What was with these cats? she asked herself.

Every time she wore this fur coat, cats always seemed to be attracted to it.

She ran down the cobble stone in her high-heeled shoes to escape the cats.

She heard meowing and cat calls behind her.

She stopped and leaned against a door in the alley way to catch her breath.

Then suddenly the meowing stopped.

Totally stopped.

No meowing of any sort.

Just a deathly silence.

Sonia looked back down the narrow alley way.

All she seemed to see was black night.

Black night?

t was pitch darkness.

She couldn't see anything down the alley.

It was just a huge pitch blackness.

And the darkness seemed to be moving.

Moving down the alley.

The pitch blackness was moving towards her.

It was as if the darkest of dark nights had descended on this narrow cobble stoned alley on what should be a lovely spring evening and this darkest of dark nights had taken form and was moving towards her.

Soon the darkness was upon her.

And the darkness fed on her fur coat.

And then the darkness decided to eat the rest of her.

And so the darkness did.


To be continued.