KRULL

Leggy seventeen-year-old brunette, Leila Feinberg, the maid-cum-waitress-cum-part-time bottle-washer at the Imperial Hotel, was bored shitless. She had worked her backside off helping serve breakfast, then helping with the dishes; now she was stuck on boring reception duty.

She ting-tinged the silver reception bell, just to stop herself from falling asleep.

"Less tinging, more working," said Heidi Pollock, the manageress, coming out of the dining room opposite the reception area.

"What work?" demanded Leila glaring at the tall, curvacious forty-something redhead: "I've got nothing to do, I'm in charge of the desk."

"You could sort the letters."

"I've sorted them so many times that I know the contents of most of them by heart."

"You're supposed to sort them, not read them."

"Well, I didn't know that," lied Leila. In fact, she'd been employed at the hotel since she was fifteen, and knew the procedures far better than the new owners: "It wouldn't be so bad if I had someone to check in."

"You'll have someone to check in soon when the 9:15 train arrives."

"Which it usually does about lunchtime," said Leila.

"Don't exaggerate," chastised Heidi: "It's rarely more than forty-five minutes late."

"Whoopee!" said Leila, ting-tinging the bell again.

"All right, I'll relieve you here if you'd prefer to go and make the beds?"

"Anything would be better than this," said Leila.

Lifting the flap in the counter she stepped out. Normally Leila hated making all the beds, but she thought: At least it helps to pass the time.

At that moment, Cameron 'Cam' Pollock, Heidi's husband, a tall fiercely blond man, made the mistake of coming out of the kitchen.

"Oh, Cam, you can take over reception duty, while Leila and I go make the beds," said Heidi.

"Whoopee," said Can unenthusiastically.

"We've got a new guest coming on the Glen Hartwell train," said Leila: "And Heidi says it's never more than forty-five minutes late."

With that, the two women headed for the staircase beside the reception desk, to start up to the first floor.


It was a little after 10.15 when the expected guest finally arrived.

"Whoa!" said Cam as the tall, curvacious night-black woman walked in through the front door of the hotel.

She was dressed in a simple full length red and yellow dress, split to the waist up the left-hand side.

"Hello, I am Sophia Barbeau," she said after wiggling across to the reception desk.

In the middle of sorting the day's mail, Cam spilt a dozen or so letters across the desk, some spilling onto the floor, as he saw the gorgeous woman.

"Here, allow me," said Sophie.

As she bent forward to collect the letters, Cam was gifted a generous view of her ample cleavage. At least 33 Double-D! he thought.

"Less perving, more signing in," instructed Heidi Pollock coming down the steps behind him.

"I wasn't perving," lied Cam: "I spilt some letters and this lady was kind enough to pick them up for me."

"That's his excuse for everything," teased Leila Feinberg coming down the stairs behind Heidi.

"No, no, it's true," said Sophie straightening up, giving him another generous view of ebony cleavage. She placed the letters on the reception desk, then asked: "Can someone bring in my luggage?"

"Why don't you do that, honey, while I sign in our guest?" Heidi asked.

"Er, good idea," said Cam, partly relieved, and partly frustrated at no longer being able to peer down Sophia's generous cleavage.

"My apologies, my husband is going through the change of life," teased Heidi.

It'll be the change of wife if she gets too sarky! thought Cam. Careful not to voice the thought aloud, as he went outside to collect the beautiful woman's four large suitcases.

Struggling back with two of the cases, he asked: "What happened to that lazy sod, Antonio?"

"Probably skiving in the kitchen," said Leila walking across toward the dining room: "He likes to pretend to be helping out there."

"Well, go rouse him," said Heidi: "We don't pay him for skiving off."

In the dining room, Leila saw a tall lanky blond teenager of mixed French and Italian heritage.

"Hey, Spaghetti," she teased him.

"The name's Antonio, or Tony," he corrected her, before taking a long leisurely drink of coffee, followed by a large mouthful of Boston Bun.

"Your name will be mud if Heidi catches you. You know what she says...?"

"Less skiving, more carrying of suitcases," said Tony.

"Exactly," said Heidi storming into the dining room.

As he reluctantly stood, Leila said: "You won't mind, when you see the lovely ebony honey whom you'll be carrying them for."

With that, Tony hurried across the dining room and out into the reception area.

"Hello," said Sophia Barbeau: "Would you mind bringing in my last two cases?"

"My pleasure," said Tony, almost running toward the front doors.

"Why is he never this keen when the guests are old, ugly, and flat-chested?" whispered Leila, receiving a grin from Heidi.

"He's a very enthusiastic young man," said Sophia.

"Yes, he's a very hard worker," said Leila; hoping God wouldn't strike her down for lying.


Over at Glen Hartwell, Terri Scott, Sheila Bennett, and Colin Klein were seated at a huge blackwood desk, which took up half of the front room of the Mitchell Street Police Station.

Sitting between the two women, Colin Klein, a tall redheaded former reporter was leafing through a huge hardback tome.

"Wake up, Sheils," said Terri Scott.

A tall, attractive ash blonde, at thirty-five Terri was the top cop of the BeauLarkin to Willamby area of the Victorian countryside. She was also engaged to Colin.

"That's all right for you, Tare," said Sheila. Also thirty-five, Sheila was a Goth chick, with orange-and-black-striped shoulder-length hair, and Terri's second in charge: "But I've had very little sleep lately."

"It's almost two weeks since our last spooky case," said Colin [See my story, 'The Dark Messiah']: "You should be getting plenty of sleep."

"I sleep best when we're pursuing some monster or loony. During the quiet periods I barely sleep at all," explained Sheila: "I need the pressure of chasing down some psycho or monster to be at my best."

"Well, fingers crossed our next monster or loony has already moved into the area," teased Colin.

"Don't say that," chastised Terri: "Unlike Sheils, I'm enjoying a couple of weeks monster-free."

"You can't please everyone," said Colin, making them all laugh.


At 12:00 PM they were settling down for lunch in the large dining room. Twenty or so vinyl-topped round tables filled the room, with four hard wooden chairs around each table. Small containers of salt, pepper, and tomato sauce were in the centre of each of the tables. Two swinging doors at the rear of the room led into the kitchen.

Entering the room, Sophia Barbeau looked around for a suitable place to sit. A number of tables had one or more seats vacant, however, she was particular about whom she sat next to. Not wanting to sit next to women, or married men, she stood by the doorway, scanning possible places.

Finally, she spotted a tall, muscular, forty-something man. Sitting alone, he was dressed almost like an English country gentleman, in a tweed suit and cap, with a martini glass, filled to the brim, in his left hand.

Sauntering across, Sophia pulled out the chair opposite him, and said in her most sultry voice said: "Hello, I'm Sophia Barbeau ... I'm new in town."

"Hello, I'm Bartholomew Yates, Bart for short."

He leant forward to proffer his right hand.

Leaning forward to take it in hers, Sophia made certain to stoop enough so that her 33DD breasts were on full display to the handsome man.

"Do you see anything that you like," she said in a cooing voice.

"Yes, indeed," he said ogling her full pendulous breasts: "However, if we take this any further, my husband will kill me."

He pointed to where a huge dark-haired man had just entered the dining room and was glaring at them.

"Oh well," said Sophie standing: "You can't win 'em all."

She started walking slowly around the dining room, being careful to be well away from the table before Bart's husband reached it.

After what seemed like five minutes, but was probably half that time, she sat next to a sixty-something man. Despite his age, Lord Edward Emmerich, as he called himself, was a strong, viral-looking man with dark brown hair with only a few strands of grey.

"Hello, I'm Sophia Barbeau ... I'm new to town," she said in her most sultry voice again.

"So am I," said Edward, introducing himself: "I'm holidaying here, while my wife is in Canberra accepting an award for Australia's Most Irritating Bitch, or some such thing."

Laughing at the witticism, Sophia asked: "So you're all alone?" Careful to lean forward to display her ample assets to Lord Emmerich.

"Yes, indeed," said Edward to Sophia's chest.

"So am I," said Sophie pretending not to notice as he ogled her cleavage: "Perhaps we could get together later ... after tea time..."

She stopped to let the invitation sink in.

"You're wasting your time there," said Leila Feinberg coming up to the table to take their order: "Lord Emmerich is leaving Willamby tomorrow." Her tone of voice indicated that she didn't believe that he was really a Lord.

"There's still tonight," said Sophia, to Edward, completely ignoring the brunette teenager.

"Yes, indeed," said Edward, grinning at Sophia's chest like a schoolboy getting his first flash of breasts.

"So what would you like?" asked Leila, hurrying to add: "To eat for lunch that is."

"Steak and eggs for me," said Edward.

"Do you serve steak tartare?" asked Sophia.

"Sure," said Leila: "Though we don't get many requests for it."

"I like my meat, like my men ... raw."

"You must do," said Leila, before heading into the kitchen with their orders.


"Steak and eggs for Lord Fancy Pants," Leila said to their new chef, Guido Leoni: "And steak tartare for Chesty Galore."

"Show some respect for our paying guests," said Guido, emphasising 'paying'. Nonetheless, he took a peek out into the dining room before saying: "Yes, I see what you mean about Chesty Galore."


After lunch, Lord Edward and Sophia Barbeau went their separate ways, careful not to spend too much time together before bedtime.


Over at the Yellow House in Rochester Road, Merridale, they had also just finished lunch.

"Who's up for a couple of hours watching, 'The World's Stupidest Stuntman'?" asked Sheila Bennett.

"I thought that rubbish wasn't on until 7:30?" asked Natasha Lipzing, a tall grey-haired lady of seventy, who had spent the last thirty-five years in Deidre Morton's boarding house.

"'The World's Stupidest Stuntman Down Under' isn't," agreed Sheila: "But I've got every previous season on DVD. I thought we could watch some classic episodes, like the one where Neil Manheim's attempt to leap across from one skyscraper to another on his motorbike went horribly wrong and he almost castrated himself."

"That is a classic episode," agreed Tommy Turner, a short fat man with yellow hair: "I laugh just thinking about it."

"Don't you lot have to return to work, now you've finished lunch?" asked Deidre Morton, a short, sixty-something brunette who should have been running her own TV cooking show.

"Yes, but we've got nothing to do until the next monster, or psycho attack," said Sheila: "So I thought we could enjoy some telly?"

"Don't worry, Sheils, we'll find something for you to do," said Terri.

"If that was meant to be reassuring ... it wasn't," complained the Goth chick, reluctantly getting up from the dining table to follow Terri and Colin outside.


Soon after tea time, Edward and Sophia headed upstairs, Sophia by elevator, and Edward via the stairs, so it wouldn't be too obvious that they were going up together.

Sophia had barely had time to change into a see-through pink Teddy when a firm tapping came at her door. Tip-toeing across to the door to look out, the black woman smiled broadly when she saw it was Lord Emmerich, the tenting of his trouser front showing that he was ready for action.

"I see that you're ready for me," said Sophia.

Reaching out, she caressed Edward's manhood through his trousers, making him gasp and almost ejaculate into his pin-striped blue trousers.

"Steady on, beautiful," he said, as she closed and locked the bedroom door behind him: "I don't want to soil myself ... when I should be soiling you."

He grinned broadly at his attempt at humour, and Sophia put a hand up to her mouth, pretending to be amused.

"You are such a wit," said the beauty as she started to help him remove his pin-striped suit, and then shirt and underclothes, thinking: Well, I'm half right anyway.

"Now, to bed," said Sophia, starving. The steak tartare she had had for lunch and tea had helped placate Krull's extreme hunger a little, but not much.

"Eager little thing," said Edward, condescendingly, although she was actually five centimetres taller than him.

As Sophia continued tugging at him, Edward stopped pretending to resist and all but ran across to the King single bed, from which Sophia had pulled down the sheets and blankets. Although August is the final month of the Australian winter, August 2024 had been surprisingly warm and sunny in Victoria, and even in the late afternoon, there was no need for heating.

Hurriedly undressing herself, Sophia climbed onto her back upon the bed and spread her legs wide, grinning lecherously.

As Edward crawled along the bed toward her, the ebony beauty thought: I just hope he doesn't come before getting inside me, Krull is hungry tonight!

Still teasing a little, Edward crawled slowly along the bed, until Sophia started caressing herself with her hands, and his excitement reached fever point so that he all but leapt on top of the beautiful woman.

"Rape the shit out of me, don't make love to me!" shouted Sophia, and Edward quickly obliged.

Not bothering with subtlety, he began thrusting in and out of the beauty, almost ripping her generous breasts away from her chest with his hands, as the two rutted like animals rather than making love.

"I'll rape the shit out of you!" cried Edward, thrusting in and out of the black beauty, already on the brink of climax.

"Fill me with your seed!" shouted Sophia.

On command, Edward did just that, ejaculating deeply into the beautiful woman.

"Oh God, that was wonderful," said Edward panting: "Give me forty minutes, and we can go again."

"Sorry, none of my victims gets more than one go," said Sophia, honestly.

Keeping her legs crossed over the man's back, Sophia began to suck him into her vagina as though giving birth in reverse.

"Krull has to eat," said Sophia, referring to her vagina, also known by the natives of Jamaica, where she came from, as 'The Hungry Vagina'.

"Wha...?" said Edward, half asleep after the strenuous act of rutting, like he had not done in nearly twenty years.

"There, there, baby, go to sleep," soothed Sophia.

She stroked his head gently as he drifted off into the eternal sleep, dosing off as Krull continued to suck him into her body; the hungry vagina eating for the first time in almost a week.

"Hush little baby, don't you cry..." Sophia sang.

Centimetre by centimetre Edward Emmerich was sucked deeper into Sophia's vagina until her belly began to distend upwards as though she were pregnant.

As Krull devoured the sleeping man, Sophia began slowly massaging her expanding belly, to soothe any cramps from going from nearly empty to as full as any woman's stomach had ever been.

By the time she had finished, the beautiful woman looked at least eighteen months pregnant. And there was no sign of Lord Edward Emmerich, other than his clothing on the floor near the bedroom door.

I'll have to throw that out in the trash, thought Sophia looking across at his crumpled clothes.

Knowing she would need at least two days to sleep off such a big meal, Sophia staggered across to the door, and put a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outside doorknob, then staggered back to bed.


The next morning the absence of Sophia Barbeau and Edward Emmerich went unnoticed until after breakfast.

"Where could they be?" asked Heidi Pollock of no one in particular.

"Well, he's supposed to be leaving today," reminded Cam Pollock: "Maybe he left early?"

"The train's not due until 9:15," said Leila: "Which realistically means about ten past ten."

"Well, we'd better go check up on them," said Heidi.

Stopping at Sophia's door first, they saw the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the doorknob, but Heidi knocked anyway:

"Miss Barbeau, are you all right?"

"Just a little jet-lagged, I'll be all right, later tomorrow."

"Okay," said Cam.

In Edward's room, they found his suitcases packed, but no sign of the man himself.

"Maybe he wants us to send them on to him," suggested Leila.

"It'll have to be C.O.D.," said Heidi: "We're not paying. It's a good thing he paid his bill yesterday."

"If he doesn't turn up for lunch, I'll take them to the railway station to be sent by tomorrow's train," offered Cam.


After tea that evening Sheila Bennett, Tommy Turner, and Derek Armstrong were seated at the yellow floral sofa in the lounge room watching 'The World's Stupidest Stuntman Down Under'. Sheila and Tommy were laughing hysterically, while Derek Armstrong (a tall black American by birth, who was Sheila's boyfriend) sat stony-faced, not quite certain why they were laughing.

"So tell me again why it's funny?" asked Derek.

"It's man's futile quest against machine," explained Tommy between almost hysterical laughter.

"But that poor blonde almost got decapitated," said Derek.

A paramedic at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, Derek saw death and injury too often to find it humorous.

"Yes, but that huge-chested Dolly Parton wannabee is the reason I was knocked out of the qualifying rounds for the show," explained Sheila: "So anything that happens to her is okay with me."

"Here, here," said Tommy: "You would've given them all a run for their money."

"Thanks, mate," said Sheila, snuggling up to Derek.

After the show ended, Tommy went up to bed, followed by Sheila and Derek. Who sneaked up to Sheila's room, despite Deidre Morton knowing that Derek sometimes slept over.


Late the next day Sophia Barbeau was up and about again. Three guests had left during her two-day sojourn and half a dozen others had arrived, giving her a wide choice for her next meal.

"Hello," said Antonio, seeing the beautiful woman for the first time in nearly two days: "You okay now?"

Leaning across the reception desk, she whispered: "Well, I do have a bit of an itch ... maybe you could help me to scratch it this evening."

She carefully leant forward so that her pendulous breasts almost fell free from her low-cut dress.

Gulping from lust and surprise, he said: "Sure, my pleasure."

He only hoped that she meant what he thought she did, or else he could be going to get himself fired.

"About 11:30 would be fine," said Sophia.

Antonio gulped again, now certain that she meant what he hoped she did.

"Less nattering, more calling people in to tea," said Heidi Pollock walking up to them. Then to Sophia: "Are you feeling better now?"

"A little woozy still, but otherwise fine."

"Good, well follow me into the dining room."

As they walked, Heidi said: "Actually you look a little stronger, as though you've just had a big meal."

"It's my wacky metabolism," said Sophia stopping to check out the new arrivals, despite already having set up her next meal.

"What can I do you for?" asked a bored-looking Leila Feinberg stopping at Sophia's table.

"Steak tartar, please."

"Is that all you eat?" said Leila, more thinking aloud than asking a question.

"It is my favourite meal."

"Fish and chips is mine," said Leila: "But I don't have it for breakfast, lunch, and tea every day."

"Less nattering, Leila, more taking orders," called Heidi Pollock from a few tables away.

"Yes, Heidi," said Leila, thinking: I really must check out Killing Heidi!


It was 11:30 PM almost to the second, when Sophia Barbeau heard a very gentle tapping upon her bedroom door. She sneaked across to open the door a centimetre to peep out at a very embarrassed-looking Antonio, looking about nervously, as though having second thoughts about their rendezvous.

Opening the door wide, Sophia grabbed the teenager and pulled him into the room before he could chicken out.

"Not having second thoughts, I hope?" asked the night-black woman.

"Well..." said Antonio, stopping as Sophia wiggled out of her yellow and black dress to stand before him in all her naked splendour:

"Er, no, of course not," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"Good," said the beauty.

She all but ripped his clothing off the teenager and half waltzed him, half carried him across to the bed, laughing as they went.

Joining in her carefree mood, Antonio was soon relaxing, becoming more confident as the beautiful woman dragged him onto the King single bed, and spread herself wide for him.

"Krull is hungry again," she whispered.

"What was that?" asked Antonio, not catching her words.

"I said, don't keep a lady waiting. Climb aboard me. Take me. Possess me! Master me. But don't make me beg for your penetration ... that would be going too far."

Confident as any virgin could be, Antonio climbed onto the bed beside the beautiful woman, allowing her to pull him on top of her.

"Don't be shy, handsome," said Sophia.

She quickly stroked him to a raging erection, then eased him inside of her.

"Now take me by force! Master me! Rape me! Ride me like a pony!"

Antonio started to gain confidence as he entered Sophia, taking her gently to begin with, then with more and more urgency as she continued to egg him on; continued to demand that he take charge and use her for his own sexual gratification, rather than hers.

"Take me! Master me! Make me your private filly!"

On and on the sex session -- not lovemaking -- went, until finally, Antonio ejaculated deep inside Krull, making Sophia moan in genuine orgasm; something which Edward had not been capable of doing two days earlier.

"Wow," said Antonio, gasping for air: "That was fantastic!"

He tried to roll off the black beauty, only to find that they were locked together somehow at the loins, as though her sex were gripping his, refusing to release him from inside her.

"What the Hell?" said the teenager, struggling to dismount his sex filly.

"What's wrong, aren't you enjoying yourself anymore?" teased Sophia, as Krull continued to devour Antonio groin-first.

"Let me go, you evil cunt!" cried Antonio, struggling, futilely to climb off the curvaceous woman.

"Naughty, naughty, don't be sexist," teased Sophia.

"You evil witch!" cried Antonio, for the first time in his life hitting a woman, as he started to punch the beautiful woman in the face.

"Krull can feel no pain!" said Sophia.

She started to laugh even as the teenager continued to punch her in the face blackening both eyes and breaking her aquiline nose.

"Krull will not be denied!" she cried.

Antonio started to weaken as he sank deeper and deeper into Krull, Sophia's vagina, as he was devoured.

"Please, stop!" begged Antonio, no longer having the strength to lash out at Sophia as Krull continued to devour him.

For half an hour or more Antonio begged for his life, as he was slowly consumed by Krull. Finally, he died, before he was even fully devoured.

"At last some silence," said Sophia, rubbing at the blood on her lower lip, from where the teenager had lashed out at her in desperation.

Sophia lay back, to sleep for a few hours. Then around 4:00 AM, she awakened and packed a single bag to take as she started out into the corridor. In one hand she carried a handwritten note, which she left on the reception table before sneaking outside the Imperial Hotel.

Despite her bruised and battered state, and heavily distended belly, she managed to lope through the surrounding forest, until she had reached LePage township.


Victoria Singleton, a tall lean ravenette, in her early eighties, was sitting on the front porch of her cabin outside LePage township, early in the morning, when she caught a glance of a heavily pregnant black woman running through the forest not far from her.

"Who the...?" said Victoria, knowing most of the local women, but certain she had never seen this dark beauty before. Most of the black women around here are indigenous, she thought: But she looks more African or West Indian.


At the Dorset Hotel in Duchess Lane, off Gordon Street, in LePage, George and Annette Mulberry, the owners, were standing around the reception desk, yawning. Not quite ready to serve breakfast to the starving masses. An avid West Coast Eagles fan, George had insisted upon having the reception area painted in the Eagles' dark blue, white, and yellow. However, Annette had insisted upon the other rooms being painted in less garish pastel shades.

"No bookings today," said George, a tall muscular man, who looked more like a wrestler than a hotelier.

He thumbed through the letters for the umpteenth time, as though to confirm that there were no arrivals expected.

"Thumbing the mail won't make a booking suddenly appear," said Annette, a tall, beautiful, chestalicious redhead.

As though to prove her wrong, Sophia Barbeau, looking heavily pregnant and sporting two black eyes and a broken, but rapidly healing nose, staggered in through the front doors.

"Oh, my God!" said Annette, seeing the bloodied state of the ebony woman.

Annette and George raced across to the double glass doors to help her inside.

"What happened to you, honey?" asked George.

"I fell over in the dark on the way here," lied Sophia.

"It looks more like you were beaten up," said Annette: "And in your state too."

"I'd better go ring the doctor," offered George, as they helped her across to the reception area.

"No, no, I am fine," insisted Sophia, letting George take her suitcase from here: "I am a fast healer

"Did your husband do this?" asked Annette, never shy to push the point: "If he did, he needs to be locked up."

"She's right," agreed George: "Most men would never hit a woman ... But the ones who do, don't stop at once."

"No, no, I fell," insisted Sophia: "If I could just book in for a few days?"

"Of course," said Annette.

Opening the reception area she walked inside to take Sophia's particulars, while George placed a stool behind Sophia.

They had barely finished, when Lizzie Enrich, the Dorset's maid-cum-waitress-cum-general dogsbody came down the stairs beside the reception area.

"Lizzie, open up the dining room, while George and I take Miss Marceau up to her room," instructed Annette.

"Ja, wohl!" said Lizzie, doing a Nazi salute, before hurrying across the reception area to the dining area opposite.

"She's only new here," explained the redhead: "And the way she's going, she might not live long enough to get old here."

Despite her injuries, Sophia could not help giggling.


Over at the Imperial Hotel in Willamby, Leila Feinberg was the first downstairs as breakfast hour approached. She had almost walked past the reception desk before seeing the white envelope. She stopped to open the envelope and read the letter.

"That can't be the mail already?" asked Heidi Pollock coming down the stairs behind her.

"Nope, it's from Chesty Galore, she's skipped without paying her bill."

"Who?"

"The black chick who booked in three days ago."

"She paid three weeks in advance, so she can't have skipped? And don't call our guests nicknames!"

Handing over the letter, Leila said: "Well, she's gone away for a few days according to this."

"How strange," said Heidi reading the note.

"Less nattering, more opening up the dining room," teased Cam Pollock, coming down the stairs behind the two women.

"Very funny, dear," said Heidi, sounding anything but amused, before going on to tell Cam what had happened.

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Cam as he read the note.

Soon the starving hordes came down for breakfast, and Leila and the Pollocks quickly forgot about Sophia Barbeau for the moment.


At the Dorset hotel, Annette, George, and Lizzie were raced off their feet serving breakfast. Then Annette went up to ask Sophia if she wanted breakfast.

"No, no, I have recently eaten," said the black woman through the door of room 311. "But maybe a little steak tartare at lunchtime?"

"Of course," said Annette.

Downstairs again, she relayed the request to Lizzie, who said:

"Morty will be pissed, he hates making steak tartare! Says it's only fit for swine."

"Mortimer, as he likes to be called, says that about any simple dish," said George Mulberry: "If it isn't complicated it's only fit for swine."

"Well, he should know," said Lizzie.

Turning, she headed up to the first floor to start making the beds before the Mulberrys could tell her off.


"Where the Hell is Antonio?" asked Heidi Pollock after they had finished serving breakfast and were getting ready to make the beds.

"Haven't seen him all day," said Cam.

"He didn't help serve breakfast, and Guido says he hasn't seen him," said Leila.

"Well, if he isn't here by lunchtime, he's sacked," said Heidi as she and Leila started up the stairs.

"Can we afford to sack him?" asked Cam.

"Can we afford not to?" Heidi asked: "It's not like he does any work."

"I'm with her," agreed Leila, before both women disappeared upstairs.


Terri Scott, Colin Klein, and Sheila Bennett were seated before the massive blackwood desk inside the main office of the Mitchell Street Police Station when they heard a car pull up outside.

"Wonder who that can be?" said Sheila, desperate for any excuse to stop reading through the Victoria Police Manual: "Perhaps I should go and see."

"Whoever it is, he or she will be in here soon enough," said Colin.

After a moment, the door opened, and Victoria Singleton walked in.

"What brings you in to town, Vikkie?" asked Terri, as Colin got up to offer the raven-haired woman his chair.

"I've just seen a heavily pregnant black woman running through the forest outside LePage."

"How heavily pregnant?" asked Terri

"She looked like she was going to give birth to a football team."

"Hopefully they're Kangaroo supporters," said Sheila: "North Melbourne could use a new team."

"Did she look Indigenous?" asked Colin.

"No, she looked African or West Indian perhaps."

"Did you go after her?" asked Terri, forgetting that the black-haired woman was in her eighties.

"No point. At the rate she was travelling a young Cathy Freeman couldn't have caught up with her."

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Terri as they all stood up.


After exploring the forest around Victoria's log cabin for forty minutes or so, they managed to track down a trail of footprints heading toward LePage township.

"Time to bring in an old mate of ours," said Terri.

"Actually, he insists he's only middle-aged," said Sheila: "Since sixty is the new forty, and he's only sixty-five."

"Which makes him the new forty-five," Colin finished for her.

"Quiet, both of you," said Terri.


Bulam-Bulam was a grey-haired elder of the Gooladoo tribe, outside the township of Harpertown in the Victorian countryside. Although he lived in a lean-to in his tribal village, he owned and operated a small grocery shop in town. He also worked part-time as an Aboriginal tracker for the Glen Hartwell Police Department.

Terri quickly told Bulam-Bulam why they wanted his services.

As they drove back to the site outside LePage, the elder asked: "And she was definitely not of my people?"

"According to Victoria Singleton she was West African, or Indian," said Sheila Bennett.

"West Indian, or African," corrected Terri.

"Same diff.," said Sheila.


A short time later they were following the tracks made through the carpet of pine needles and gum leaves on their way toward LePage. Bulam-Bulam sat on the bonnet of the police-blue Lexus while the three officers remained inside.

After less than an hour, they pulled up outside the Dorset Hotel in Duchess Road, LePage.

"This place seems familiar," said Sheila as they stopped.

"It should, we've been here before on other cases," reminded Colin.

Inside the blue-white-and-yellow reception area, they told the Mulberrys what Victoria had claimed to have seen.

"Curiouser and curiouser," said George Mulberry.

"Have you had anyone like that check in this morning?" asked Terri.

"Yes, but I doubt she could have outrun Cathy Freeman," said Annette: "She looked like she'd been beaten up."

"Yes, Victoria said that," agreed Colin.

"Although, she claimed to have just fallen over," said Lizzie Enrich.

"Bashed women often say things like that," said Terri: "Wrongly thinking that it's their fault."

"Can we go up to talk to her?" asked Sheila.

"I'd better go see her first," said Annette.

Upstairs, the redhead knocked on the door to room 311.

"Yes," called the black woman.

Annette quickly explained about the police and what they wanted.

Hmmm? thought Sophia, at first reluctant: Maybe I should see them ... To throw them off the track.

"Very well," she called through the door.

A few minutes later Terri, Sheila, and Colin were standing beside Sophia's bed, surprised to see that her facial injuries were much less extensive than the Mulberrys had suggested.

Seeing them staring, Sophia asked: "Is anything wrong?"

"The Mulberrys led us to believe that you had two black eyes and a broken nose," said Colin: "As though you'd been beaten."

"No, no, I just fell over on my way here. It looked a lot worse before I had a shower before going to bed."

"But you were seen running wildly through the forest," said Terri.

"I was lost, and may have panicked a little," lied Sophia: "Now, I am very tired,"

"One last question," said Colin: "Are you African, or West Indian?"

"West Indian, from Jamaica."

"Thank you," said Terri, before they departed.

Downstairs they discussed the conversation, surprising Lizzie and the Mulberrys by saying how minor Sophia's facial injuries were.

"A few hours ago she looked like she'd been beaten shitless," said Lizzie.

"Well, not now," said Terri.


They were almost back to the Mitchell Street Police Station when Terri's mobile phone rang. Taking it from here pocked, she listened for a while, then said:

"Turn about, Sheils, we've got a long drive to Willamby now."

"How come?"

"The Pittsburgh Hotel ... Damn, I mean the Imperial has a missing guest," said Terri: "Some Lord Edward Emmerich."


"So what's the lowdown?" asked Colin well after lunchtime, while they were talking to Heidi and Cam Pollock in the reception area of the Imperial (formerly Pittsburgh) Hotel.

"A few days ago, we had a guest, Lord Edward Emmerich book out," explained Heidi: "Just today his wife rang from Canberra to say that his luggage, which we sent after him, had arrived but there was no sign of His Lordship."

"His Lordship, my Aunt Fanny," scoffed Leila: "He just said that to impress chicks, in the hope of pulling."

"Did it work?" asked Colin.

"Well, yeah, as a matter of fact. On his last night here he picked up this huge-chested black chick who booked in here. She's gone missing too."

"She left a note to say she was going away for a few days," explained Cam Pollock.

"She wasn't Jamaican with a huge pregnant belly?" asked Terri.

"She may have been Jamaican for all we know," said Heidi: "But she certainly didn't look remotely pregnant."

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Terri as they started upstairs to check Edward Emmerich's room.

"Did you make his bed after he left?" asked Terri.

"No, he either made it himself, or he didn't sleep there," said Leila.

"Did he act strangely when he booked out?" asked Colin.

"We didn't see him," said Heidi: "He paid his bill the night before and left his suitcases packed, so we sent them on C.O.D."

"And they arrived, but not him?" asked Sheila.

"According to his wife."

"Curiouser and curiouser."

After checking around the room without finding anything of interest, they returned downstairs to check around outside.

It was Sheila who found the two sets of male clothing -- Edward Emmerich's and Antonio's -- in one of the large plastic bins around the back of the hotel.

"And to think I almost didn't bother checking them," said Sheila.

"Do either of these belong to the missing man?" asked Terri.

"The pinstriped suit," said Heidi.

"The cheaper clothing looks like it belongs to Antonio," said Leila.

"Antonio?" asked Colin.

"Our dead beat-cum-porter," said Heidi: "We haven't seen him in days either."

"Did they vanish on the same day?" asked Sheila.

"No, Lord Emmerich first, then Antonio a couple of days later," said Cam Pollock: "Although Antonio is a bit of a skiver."

"That's putting it mildly," said Leila: "The only part of working he likes is getting paid. He's forever skiving off."

"Until seeing his clothing," said Heidi: "We thought he was just skiving off again."

"Do you have details of his next of kin?" asked Terri.

"Yeah, his long-suffering mum," said Heidi, leading them back inside: "He still lives at home."

"And she hasn't rung you?"

"No, but then he skives off from home for days on end too," said Cam: "So she probably hasn't thought anything was wrong."


They next went around to Maple Street in LePage, which strangely was lined with gum trees, not maples, to see Antonio's mother.

"Mrs. Verdoni?" asked Terri, when the old lady answered the front door.

"Scusey?" asked Cinzia Verdoni, who turned out not to speak any English.

After taking the two sets of men's clothing for testing to the local Coroner, Elvis Green in Dien Street, Glen Hartwell, they managed to get a translator to take with them to Maple Street. However, Cinzia Verdoni was unable to tell them anything, not realising that her son had vanished:

"He regularly vanishes from home for a few days at a time," translated the interpreter: "As far as the old lady knows everything is all right."

"Fingers crossed they are," said Terri as the police turned to depart.


Late the following evening Sophia's belly was no longer distended, and Krull was hungry again, so she had to look around for another meal. The steak tartare had kept her hunger pains at bay but did nothing for Krull's greater appetite.

Risking being seen by the Mulberrys, or Nosey Nora, as she had started to think of Lizzie Enrich, Sophia crept down the stairs while the others were having tea. Careful to see that there was no one on reception, she ran across to the doors and out into the evening forest to race at a seemingly impossible speed through the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest heading from the four-star Dorset Hotel, toward the barely three-star Imperial.

Krull must feed again tonight, she thought as she raced through the forest. This time careful to take a wide berth around Victoria Singleton's log cabin.

Nosey old cow! thought Sophia, racing like an Olympic runner.

By the time she reached the Imperial, it was well past tea time, and she was resigned to spending the evening in the TV room, trying to pick up a meal for Krull.

Krull must feed tonight! thought Sophia as she ran in through the doorway and almost collided with Terri Scott, Colin Klein, and Sheila Bennett who were standing in the reception area talking.

"Neither Edward Emmerich nor Antonio has turned up yet," said Terri: "So we are now regarding both disappearances as possible murders."

"Oh, my," said Heidi Pollock, stopping as she noticed Sophia for the first time: "Miss Barbeau, we're glad to have you back."

"Yes, we were starting to worry with so many people disappearing," said Cam Pollock.

Turning to see the newcomer, Terri, Colin, and Sheila started.

"Didn't we see you at the Dorset Hotel?" asked Colin, noticing for the first time that Sophia did not look heavily pregnant.

"Certainly not," said Sophia.

"Have you recently given birth?" asked Terri.

"No, why do you ask?"

"The lady we saw at the Dorset looked like you, but was heavily pregnant," said Colin.

"She looked like she was about to give birth to a football team," said Sheila.

"Then it can't have been me."

"I suppose not," said Terri, clearly perplexed.

After Terri and co. departed, Heidi asked: "Have you had tea yet?"

"No. Some steak tartare would be much appreciated."

"I'm sure Guido will be delighted to make some for you," said Heidi, going to speak to the chef.

"Bah, peasant food," said Guido in disgust when told what Sophia wanted.

"Nonetheless, it's what the lady wants!"


After tea, Sophia settled into the TV room, which she was pleased to see was filled mainly with men, watching 'The World's Stupidest Stuntman Down Under'. Many of them cackled like hens as the contestants almost got themselves decapitated or castrated.

This explains the lack of women present, thought Sophia as she walked across to sit on the dark brown vinyl sofa, squeezing between two forty-something men: one tall and fiercely blond, the other shorter, but stronger-looking with bulging muscular arms and legs.

Krull will be well fed tonight! she thought, smiling lecherously at the muscular man, John Henty, as he introduced himself.

Soon they were talking, and smiling at each other. By the time the program finished at 9:30 they were holding hands and kissing.


After 'The World's Stupidest Stuntman Down Under' finished, while the others kept watching TV, Sophia and John Henty went upstairs to Sophia's room.

"Don't be shy," teased Sophia as they entered her room together.

To her annoyance, the bed had been made since Sophia had been there last.

"I'm never shy around women," said John.

To prove his point, he picked up the beautiful black woman and carried her across to the bed, where he dropped her, before hurriedly undressing to climb onto the bed after her.

"Steady on," she said, startled, yet also amused by his actions: "I still need to get undressed."

"Well hurry up, if you don't want me to rip your duds off you."

Realising that he wasn't joking, Sophia sat up upon the bed and hurriedly shimmied out of her clothing, which she dropped onto the floor, a second before the muscular man pushed her over onto her back and quickly straddled her.

"I like a man who doesn't waste time," said Sophia, smiling at him.

"That's me," said John.

He penetrated her roughly and began fucking the beautiful woman ruthlessly, taking powerful almost jackhammer-like strokes, fucking the shit out of her, rather than even pretending to make love to her.

No need to egg this one on! thought Sophia, trying to match him thrust for thrust without much luck.

"Ye-e-e-es!" shrieked John before collapsing on top of the beautiful woman as he ejaculated deeply into her.

"Krull must feed!" said Sophia, relieved to find that the muscular man seemed to have fallen asleep on top of her after cumming.

At first, the man's great weight was a burden to the black woman, however, as Krull fed, pulling the sleeping man deep inside her, the weight began to reduce.

Krull had devoured John Henty fully by a little after 10:00 PM, however, Sophia waited until just after 11:00 before starting outside. She had carefully scooped up the big man's clothing before starting out into the corridor.

Sophia crept down the stairs, careful to check that there was no one at the desk before heading into the reception area.

She hurried across to the front door.

What? thought Leila Feinberg, coming out of the dining room behind the Jamaican woman: Where the Hell is she going at this hour?

Then she realised: And why does she suddenly look massively pregnant?

Outside the hotel, Sophia quickly deposited John Henty's clothing in one of the large plastic rubbish bins, unaware that Antonio and Edward Emmerich's clothing had been found there by the police.

Then turning, she started at a racehorse-like speed back toward the Dorset Hotel.


Back at the Dorset Hotel in LePage, the front door was locked, however, the lights were on in the reception area.

What do I do now? wondered Sophia.

In the reception area, Annette Mulberry was finishing up some accounts, when she saw the figure outside through the glass doors.

Who could that be? she wondered as she strode across to open the door.

"Miss Marceau?" said the redhead, astonished: "What are you doing outside at this hour?"

"I just wanted a little fresh air, before going to bed."

"Well, hopefully, you didn't tire yourself out ... In your condition?"

"No, no, I'm fine," said Sophia, although she was breathing heavily.


The next morning as they were preparing to serve breakfast, Heidi Pollock asked: "Has anyone seen Miss Barbeau?"

"She sneaked out again around eleven last night," said Leila: "And funnily, she did look heavily pregnant like the cops said earlier."

"What?" asked Heidi.

"I meant to ring Terri Scott about it this morning."

"Well, it will have to wait until after breakfast," said Heidi, as the hungry masses started swarming into the dining room.

After breakfast, Leila helped with the dishes, and then helped Heidi make the beds, having completely forgotten about Sophia Barbeau. It wasn't until nearly 2:00 PM that she remembered to ring the police.


Terri, Colin, and Sheila were doing a random patrol of Glen Hartwell after lunch when Terri's mobile phone rang.

Terri talked on the phone for a couple of minutes, then disconnected and said: "Round to the Imperial. Our sometimes pregnant Jamaican lady was seen sneaking out of the hotel late last night ... And apparently, she was heavily pregnant again."

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Colin and Sheila as one.

After talking to Leila and the Pollocks, they set out again for the Dorset Hotel in LePage.

"Officers," said George Mulberry, surprised to see them: "What can we do for you this time?"

"Is your sometimes pregnant Jamaican lady around?"

"She's in her room," said Annette Mulberry: "She seems to spend a lot of time sleeping."

"What do you mean 'sometimes pregnant'?" asked George.

"Let's go find out," said Terri, leading a procession across to the elevator.

Upstairs they confirmed that Sophia Barbeau was pregnant, although she had given a false name at the Dorset (Adelaide Marceau), and denied ever having been to the Imperial.

"Why would she go to that dump?" asked Annette Mulberry as they went back out into the corridor: "We're a four-star hotel; they barely qualify as three-star."

"Two star if truth be told," said Lizzie Enrich: "What a dump!"

"Technically she's right!" said Annette as they headed to the elevator.


Outside in the Lexus, Colin asked: "So what do we do now?"

Terri thought for a moment, then said: "Our sometimes pregnant lady is Jamaican, right?"

"Yeah, so what, Chief?" asked Sheila Bennett.

"So, Leo Laxman at the Glen Hartwell Hospital is from Jamaica..."

"So maybe he can tell us something about sometimes-pregnant Jamaican ladies?" suggested Colin.

"Exactly."


When they reached the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, however, they found that it was Leo's day off. So they had to set out again to Leo's apartment at 77 Burnley Street in Bromby township.

"You shouldn't live out here in this dump, Laxie," said Sheila, drawing a glare from the landlady: "You should move in with us at the Yellow House. Mrs. M. still has a couple of rooms available ... I was thinking of asking Derek to move in full-time with me."

"Will she let you two live together in sin?" teased Leo.

"I don't see why not. She lets Terri and Colin, and I'm her favourite."

Getting to the point Terri quickly told Leo their dilemma.

"Sounds like you're dealing with a Krull," said Leo: "They're an ancient Jamaican legend of a toothed vagina. Stephen King famously, or infamously said that a woman is just a life-support system for a cunt. In the case of the Krull, that is literally true. The woman, always beautiful with a 1950s style curvacious figure, is just bait to lure men to their death."

"How?" asked Colin: "How are they killed."

"The Krull, or toothed vagina, eats them crotch-first."

"Don't tell Derek that, he might be afraid to move in with me," teased Sheila.

"Krulls' female accessories are always black Jamaican women."

"So, how do we kill a Krull?" asked Terri.

"I don't think you can. But if the Krull does not feed for a week or so, it will starve to death. Poisoning to death the woman that it is attached to."

"So, we need to lock her somewhere for a week without food, until she and the Krull both starve to death?" asked Sheila.

"Yes."

"Are we allowed to do that sort of thing?" asked Colin.

"No. But what Melbourne doesn't know about can't hurt us," said Terri.

"What you two get away with is both scary and at the same time impressive."

"Be warned, though. The woman is much stronger than she looks, and even with her belly full she can outrun a cheetah, supposedly the fastest mammal on Earth. So she must not guess what you are planning, or you will never capture her."

"Well, we can't just let her keep killing."

"If it has just eaten, it will be forty-eight hours before Krull needs to feed again."

"So back home for tea now," said Terri: "Then tomorrow we ask her to come down to Mitchell Street Station to answer some questions."

"Yes," said Leo: "If you go back tonight she will be suspicious."

"Okay, thanks mate," said Colin as they turned to leave.

"You really do want to think about leaving this dump to move in with us at Mrs. M.'s," said Sheila, drawing another glare from the landlady.


Over at the Imperial Hotel, they noticed John Henty missing at breakfast time.

"It's not like the big bloke to miss out on a meal," said one of the other residents.

"That's for sure," agreed Leila Feinberg: "He eats like a horse would ... if only they weren't all vegetarians."

"Less nattering, more taking orders, Leila," said Heidi Pollock.

"Seig Heil, Mein Fuhrer," said Leila.

"Less sarcasm, more working."

"Some days you just can't win," muttered Leila, drawing titters from some of the hungry residents.


After breakfast, Terri and Co. started toward the Dorset Hotel in LePage when Heidi Pollock rang through to report a third male guest missing.

"Well, she's still at it," said Terri, explaining the conversation as they set out on the long drive toward Willamby.

At the Dorset, they found Sophia Barbeau (a.k.a. Adelaide Marceau) sitting in the TV room watching the morning news.

"Back again?" asked Sophia, sounding displeased to see them.

"Yes," said Terri: "Just a few things we need your help with."

"Ask away," said the beautiful black woman.

"We were wondering if you would mind coming down to the Mitchell Street Police Station to help us out?" asked Colin.

"Why can't you ask me here?"

"We need to make out a formal report."

"Why?" demanded Sophia.

"Because we now have three missing men to search for."

Unable to think of a response, Sophia reluctantly agreed to go with them.

However, as they headed toward the police-blue Lexus, the beautiful black woman suddenly took off at an amazing speed into the pine and gum forest.

Drawing their handguns, Terri, Colin, and Sheila fired after the retreating figure, who initially kept running, only reluctantly stopping when a couple of the bullets missed her by only millimetres.

Racing after her, Sheila Bennett quickly cuffed Sophia's hands behind her back, before leading her back toward the others.

"For a heavily pregnant woman, you're fast on your feet," said Colin.

Glaring at the redheaded man, Sophia unwillingly allowed herself to be led over to the Lexus to sit between Colin and Terri in the rear, while Sheila drove.

It was a long trip back to Mitchell Street, Glen Hartwell, but finally, they had Sophia and Krull safely locked up in their one security cell - which had steel walls instead of bars like the other cells.

"Don't worry," called Terri before they returned to the front room: "Mrs. M. has agreed to make you your beloved steak tartare for each of your meals."

"Krull cannot survive on steak tartare!" screamed the black woman.

"Gee, that's tough luck," said Sheila, making everyone except Sophia laugh.

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