Page 30 of Seven Graves

The Mortician

My adrenaline is still pumping, my body is sated and ready for round two, my mind is a complete disaster of clashing thoughts, and I feel Malek’s leftover cum sliding through my very happy cunt.

What the fuck just happened?

He hasn’t been gone five minutes, and I still feel him all over me.

The chill of the room reminds me that my shirt’s still wide open, and the cooling sweat from our romp on that table is sending chills down my body.

That was the single-most satisfying sexual experience I think I’ve ever had in my life .

I leaned back against the concrete wall at the end of the stairs and rested my head against it, closing my eyes and trying to come to terms with the fact that I just practically fucked my psycho, mob hitting stalker right next to a dead body in my parents’ house.

I honestly couldn’t stop the smile from taking on my mouth.

A mouth that can still taste everything he spit into it.

I want more. So much more. I feel my need building back up.

He just woke the dragon. I palmed my needy twat through my skirt, trying my best to settle her back down.

When I opened my eyes, they went straight across the room to where the Girthmaster was still standing at attention just past Mrs. Porter’s covered feet.

I palmed my forehead. This is insanity. What is this life?

On my walk over to do what I do best, and clean up the evidence, I started buttoning up my shirt.

Flashes of everything we just did started playing back like a porno flick through my rattled mind and I distinctly remembered looking over at Mrs. Porter and mentally apologizing for my blatant disrespect—right before I came on Malek’s face.

Watching him pull that cock out and unload between my legs almost rocked a full-out wave of aftershocks through me.

Especially when a bit of it hung off the piercing at the tip of his head.

I wanna say I put on a show for him, riding that dildo, but the truth is…

I was having the time of my life, and for a few minutes, the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just me and the person who ironically enough…

just fucking gets it. Understands me . I’m reeling over the fact that we haven’t even had much of a conversation about what I’m used to in regards to men, but he snuck in here and waited in the dark for the sole purpose of getting me off.

No direction.

No gimmicks.

No plans to close the deal.

No fucking filter.

Just raw, undiluted Malek.

I think that’s what finally broke my hold on the restraint I’ve had when it comes to him invading every part of my life.

I’ve been telling myself that doing this job for him and looking out for Bridget is my ticket out of whatever spell I’m under, but it’s bullshit.

I know it. I know that when it’s all over, there won’t be any cleaning Malek out of my life.

He’s made it clear that it can’t be done, and I understand it now.

He sold me on it the moment that I realized he didn’t come in here with any expectations other than satisfying me .

I grabbed a plastic baggie out of a box in one of my drawers and stuffed the Girthmaster into it, hurrying over to stick it in my bag.

I scrubbed up, changed my PPE, and blew out a deep slow breath, shaking my hands out and trying to come back to the now.

Mrs. Porter isn’t gonna embalm herself. I got a fresh pair of gloves and peeled back her sheet, shaking my head with a smirk.

“I’m so sorry. I know you understand, though. Twenty years without your man must have had some kind of effect on you. He’s fucking amazing, yeah?”

I think I ended up taking ten years off of her after draining over a liter of fluid from her frail body.

Between that and simply embalming her, she looks dewy and youthful enough that I don’t even think she’ll need much in the way of makeup.

Heart failure patients never look the same coming out of here as they did coming in.

They’re another category of the ones that get some special treatment from me.

Mrs. Porter’s great granddaughter requested a shade of nail polish too.

It was sent in her personal items to be put on before we lay her in the casket.

I’m taking my time on this mani. I think she’s earned it after what she had to be in attendance for this morning.

My music paused and I looked up to find Greg hopping off the last step.

“Hey, dude. You guys have a good time this weekend?”

He came to stand beside me, peering over my shoulder at Mrs. Porter’s pink nails.

“We did. Kept it simple. That looks good.” I heard him sniffing while I leaned closer to her hands, and tried to pretend I was unfazed while I continued to paint strokes. “What the hell is that smell?”

My eyes darted this way and that, boggling a bit, but he couldn’t see it.

“Probly the machine. I put a little too much fluid in it earlier. It’ll wear off.

” I inwardly cringed when I heard him take his spot on the table I just got ravaged on a couple hours ago.

It was all I could do to bite back my smile. He’d absolutely shit if he knew.

“So, um…I might be married. Have two kids. Mags might work crazy hours, and the flame is a little dim? But I do remember what sex smells like, Pipsqueak.” I almost dropped this entire bottle of nail polish in Mrs. Porter’s lap.

I closed it up, setting it next to her and turned around to put on my best confused face.

“Thanks for that very unwelcome mental image, Greg. Also…I have no fucking idea what you’re—”

“Before you finish that sentence, you should know…your shirt’s buttoned up wrong.”

Somebody just shoot me. Right in the face. Bury me with my friend here. Anything.

I glanced down, seeing he was absolutely right, and shoved both sides of my lab coat closed, crossing my arms over it and narrowing my eyes at him. “Can we not?”

His smile went from ear to ear. “Holy shit, I’m right. You had a guy in here? Oh, you just wait ‘til Mom hears about this.”

“Greg, I swear to God, I’ll hide your body where nobody can find it.” He hopped off the table.

“Oh, my gahhh . Is that why you screamed earlier? This is too good.”

“Know what’s better? You just sat in the exact spot it happened.

” My turn to laugh. And laugh I did , while my brother turned around, gagging at the table and trying to wiggle out every germ on his body around the basement.

“Serves you right. Keep your trap shut and don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to. ”

“I think I’m gonna ralph.”

“Good. What did you need?”

He finally got his shit together and parked his hands on his hips like a complete dad. “I came to tell you not to dress her yet. Her casket got delivered about an hour ago and it’s got the burnished handles. It’s not what we ordered, so they’re fixing it.”

I threw my arms out. “Are you serious? Her viewing is tomorrow. It’s gonna take at least a full day to reset and deliver.”

“I know. We’ll have to use the house rentals for crematory viewings and do it at no charge. They won’t be happy about it, but at least she’ll have the right one for the burial. She’s gonna have to go back in the fridge tonight, though. Is that gonna be an issue with the makeup?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Shouldn’t be. I haven’t done her facial makeup yet. Just covered the mottling. I’ll order her an arrangement from Tony’s from all of us. Something pink. Maybe that’ll help soften the blow.”

An awkward silence passed between us and Greg glanced over at the body…then at me. “You didn’t…do it while she was…”

“Would you get out? ”

He gagged again, running from me when I tried to smack him in the arm. The second man I’ve chased out of this basement today. The door shut and I turned to the little table to grab my phone and pull my playlist back up. There was a message I missed a while ago.

Asshat: This doesn’t taste anywhere near as good as you do. ;)

There his smug ass sat, sipping on a strawberry milkshake next to a ‘closed’ sign at Desiree’s. That traitorous little snipe let him in? She has never once done that for me!

Me: I hope you choke on that.

I shuffled my music and let it take me through all my cleanup, which took a little over an hour, and by the time I finally secured Mrs. Porter in refrigeration, I was dog tired.

I know the real reason why, but I refuse to think about it again until I have to.

Which, if he’s made it back to the apartment, would be in the next little while.

I have no idea how I’m gonna play this off in front of Bridget like everything on that table didn’t happen.

Things weren’t weird afterwards either. It was like settling right back into our normal back and forth like he didn’t just eat my pussy inside out.

Maybe it’ll still be that way later…God willing.

I shut everything down and went upstairs at exactly five.

It’s Monday. I can smell rosemary and thyme.

Roasted chicken tonight. I checked my phone before heading into the lion’s den and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Another photo. Another thing I’m gonna have to pretend I’m not thinking about when I walk into this damn room.

Asshat: I hope you choke on this later.

That is one beautiful fucking cock.

So much for having my shit together without a single pair of underwear to help mask the obvious. I’m skipping dinner. I yelled my goodbyes and walked out before I had no choice but to face hot oil, the rack…or the guillotine.

I made it about two steps from my car before my name got called.

Fuck me.

I startled, turning to see Maggie shutting her driver’s side door and smiling at me. I can’t remember the last time I actually got to see her longer than a passing ‘hey’, or ‘bye’.

“Where ya off to? Dinner? Seance? Local trash talk for gymnastics moms?” Her smile was wide and that look was knowing.

“Oh, my God…she told you.”