0 comments/  12321 views/  1 favorites

The Funeral Director

By: Riyven



With a sickening feeling in her stomach, Eileen slowly crawls out of bed. Her heart and soul broken, as she fights the never ending feeling of pain and loss. Looking down at her nightstand, she can't help but feel more tears fall from sore eyes. How could she go on. How could she face each day alone. With a whimper she slowly moves to her shower. Alone as she had been the past week since the loss of her husband. 

Turning the water on, Eileen looks out the window and shivers. She new she had to go to the funeral home today. Her husbands body had been released finally. The thought of seeing him was hard, but she had to do it. Stepping into the hot water, she slowly washes herself. Unable to stop herself, she feels herself shiver. The memories of her beloved Wayne, flowing through her mind.

Stepping out of the shower, she moves through to her bedroom. The sound of her doorbell ringing made her pause. She had not been expecting anyone. Pulling on a robe, she heads to the door. Completely unaware in her present frame of mind, how the robe clung to every inch of her. Slowly opening the door, she smiles a little and opens it fully. 

"Hello Mr. Bermiene, I apologize for my state. I found it hard to get up today."

Holding the door open, she allows the man in. Moving through the house, she quickly starts a pot of hot water. She knew that that Mr. Bermiene, preferred tea to coffee. Heading back into the living room, she sees him looking at a picture of her and her husband. 

"I apologize for my unannounced visit Eileen. I was a little worried about you, when you didn't make your appointment this morning."

"I'm so sorry Mr. Bermiene. I just found it so hard to get going. I haven't been sleeping all that well this week."

"Oh please don't feel you have to apologize Eileen, and please call me Allen. I can understand and appreciate how you are feeling. That is the other reason I am here. I figured that it would be a little easier for you if we discussed matters here."

With a shudder, Eileen couldn't stop the tears from falling again. The sheer fact of this little kindness overwhelming her. Holding her face in her hands, she feels him move over and offer her a shoulder. Turning her head, she buries it into the proffered comfort. She felt him hold her as she needed as she cried herself out. The painful feeling of being alone in her grief, somewhat abated in the offered comfort of that simple gesture.

As she slowly felt herself begin to gain control of herself. Allen lets her go, and brings the teapot and tea into the living room. She watches as he poured them both a cup. She remembered all the times that she and Wayne would sit here drinking tea and discussing the local politics. 

"Thank you Allen, you have been such a big help in this. I'm sorry that I am not that good of a hostess right now."

"I understand Eileen. I hate to suggest this, but have you thought about something to help you sleep. I know that it would be hard to ask your doctor, as he would want to evaluate you. I can however offer an option. I know that if I asked it, the pharmacy would set you up a prescription of mild sleeping pills to help you out."

Starring at him in a little shock. Eileen felt herself nod slowly. She new she wouldn't be able to get through without something to help. She had been unwilling to go to her doctor, as she knew that he would want her to speak to someone. Something she wasn't really willing to do at that point. 

"Oh thank you Allen. That would help me out so much right now."

Leaning over, she hugged him. Sitting back, she felt a little of her stress go away. At least she wouldn't have to worry about sleep now. The rest of the time they spent on the funeral. Allen was such a blessing to her, as he made the whole thing as painless as was possible. Finishing up, she showed Allen to the door. He turned back to her.

"I will have the script made up and will bring it over later. If you like I can stick around to make sure you don't have a reaction to it."

"Thank you Allen, I can't express how much your help has meant to me."

"If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call me."

"If things get too bad, I may take you up on that Allen. Thank you again."

As she closes the door, she can't help but need to sit down. The time had been hard, even with Allen helping. Sipping her tea, she decides to wait and call Wayne's family later. Turning the radio on, she stares at all of the pictures. Going through her memories, remembering all of the good times. Feeling herself growing a little drowsy, she leans to the side. Pulling her legs up, she rests her head on the armrest.

She knew she was dreaming, how could she not be. Feeling the mouth on her breasts, she groans, as the tongue flicks her hardening nipples. She remembered how Wayne loved to flick her nipples. Making them grow to their full length. Unwilling to give up this fantasy dream, she feels herself moving with it. 

Feeling something smooth and hard against her lips, she opens her mouth to let the imaginary cock slip in. Sucking on it slowly, she feels it slip deeper into her mouth. Moving her hands, she feels them bound. Wayne had always liked to be rough when making love to her, and she had loved it. It was the one thing that no one had known about them. With a feeling like an electric shock, she let's her mind go through with the dream. 

Gagging as she tries to take all of his cock, Eileen whimpers when her rock hard nipple is twisted slightly. Feeling the rubbery head slipping into her throat, she begins to swallow in the way that Wayne liked. Feeling the head slip from her lips, she rolls over onto her knees. Biting her lip, she keep from crying out as the hard cock rams into her tight pussy. 

With a cry, she feels herself cum hard. The cock continuing to pound relentlessly into her. Shivering hard, she feels the her pussy suddenly empty as the cock yanks out of her. She knew what was coming, it was what Wayne always did to her. Leaning a little more, she felt the cock slam into her tiny asshole. She couldn't help but cry out as the cock makes her hurt, but feel so good. 

After what seemed like an eternity, where she teetered on the edge of excruciating pain and world shattering pleasure. The cock pulls out, as she rolls over with her mouth open. She wanted to taste his cum one last time, even if was only in a dream. She didn't have long to wait before her mouth was filled. Swallowing repeatedly she took it all and lost none of it. 

Feeling herself sink deeper into sleep, she silently wishes it was real. Knowing she had to wake up to real life, she let herself enjoy the feeling. Floating in a cloud of pleasure and pain, she feels herself drawn out by a continuous sound. The sound slowly penetrating her sleep, as she finally recognizes it as her doorbell.

Feeling her sore and aching body, Eileen very slowly moves toward the door. The haze over her mind keeping her from realizing what is going on around her. Not even realizing her robe is wide open. She notices that is very dark outside. Looking at the clock, she sees it is well past 9 pm. Stumbling to the door, she opens it to see Allen standing their. Wondering why he is there, her fuzzy mind tries to go over the day, and remembers that morning. 

"Hello Allen, I'm sorry for taking so long. I was so exhausted, I dozed off."

Moving into the house, Allen is unable to help but glance at Eileen's exposed state. She seemed unaware of how exposed she was. Setting a small pharmacy bag on the counter, Allen turns and heads back toward the door. Glancing at Eileen's body one last time.

"I'm sorry I can't stay Eileen. I just wanted to make sure you had this. I want to know that you are going to be able to get some consistent rest."

"Thank you Allen, I promise I will take these."

Holding the door open, Eileen let's Allen back out. Picking up the bag, she opens the bottle inside and pops one of the pills. She was determined she was going to get some good rest. No matter how much she hated taking medicine, she knew she needed to sleep. Stumbling up the stairs, she drops her robe as she enters her room. Moving to her dresser, she pulls out a pair of panties and slips them on. 

As she falls into the bed, her mind already faded into darkness. She thinks she hears footsteps. Too tired to care or feel alarmed, Eileen lets the bed envelope her as she drifts away. Knowing how her next week was going to be, she didn't care anymore. She was going to just let tonight be her one night of peace. 

As the morning sun comes through her window, she whimpers. Her sore and aching body, letting her know that she needed a shower. The melancholy of the past week still heavy on her, even with another dream of her beloved Wayne. Moving into the shower, she turns it mindlessly on. Going to remove her panties, she realizes that she isn't wearing any. 

Stepping into the hot shower, she thinks to herself that she knew she had put some on. Shrugging, she figures that she had probably kicked them off during her dream. Her pussy and body certainly felt like it had been rubbed raw. Feeling the hot water running over her body, she thinks back on the dream. Without realizing it, her hands begin to stroke her body. 

Her mind going over every detail of the dream. How it had felt to have Wayne rape her like that. Forcing her to do things she could only half remember. In the back of her mind, she knew that realistically it was only a dream. Yet she had needed that release. With a shudder and moan, she brings herself to an orgasm, as her hand squeeze her swollen clit. The entire time twisting her nipples hard. 

"Oh God Wayne, how am I ever going to be able to live without you."

The sound of her own voice startling her. The pleading sound piercing into her thoughts and desires. Feeling like lances of ice water, chilling her desires as quickly as they came. With a heavy heart she got out of the shower to begin her day. Picking out a skirt and blouse, she dresses quickly. Heading into the kitchen, Eileen makes herself tea as she begins to call all of Wayne's family. 

As the next few days passed in a sorrow filled blur, Eileen began to rely on Allen a lot. He helped her to cope with the loss, as well as, helping with arrangements for Wayne's family. She knew she would not have made it if he had not been as supportive as he was. Even going so far as to put up a cousin, when no more space was available close by. 

As the week came to close, she had the hardest time. First at the viewing, when she lost it, and had to be helped home. Then at the funeral itself. It had taken a lot to keep from throwing herself on the coffin, as it was lowered into the ground. The family had done their best to help out, and keep her strain to a minimum the last few days they were there. Only the knowledge that she would get to see Wayne in her sleep kept her going. 

She didn't tell anyone about her dreams, she didn't want them to think she was crazy. This was hard enough to endure with out that. Subconsciously she thought Wayne was finding a way to be with her. Rationally, she was sure her dreams were only that. Each night, she wore a different type of panty to bed, and each morning she woke up without it. She never could find them again, and had had to buy new ones. 

Finally, the day came when the last of the relatives left. With a tear filled embrace, Wayne's parents said goodbye to her. Telling her to call if she needed anything, and to promise to come visit them soon. She knew they meant well, but it would be hard for the first little bit. She knew she had to get herself under control, and not rely on her dream to keep her going. 

Soon after, she paid a visit to Allen at his home. She felt she had to properly thank him for all of his help. She figured that he was only doing what he thought was his job. Yet she couldn't help but feel that he had done more than he needed to. Moving up to his door, she rang the bell and waited. Smiling at him as he opened the door, she came in as he invited her inside. 

"I just wanted to stop by and thank you yet again Allen. I don't think I could have made it through this without you. My family thanks you as well, especially cousin Dave. He swears, you are the funniest man he has ever met. "

"Think nothing of it Eileen, it was the least I could do. I knew how hard it was on you, especially when you told me that none of you or Wayne's family lived close."

Leaning over, Eileen hugged Allen, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her eyes shining with tears she was fighting. She owed him so much, and could tell that he meant what he had said. She smiled as he handed her a tissue, and wiped her eyes with it. Yet another of the hundreds of little kindnesses he had shown.

"Now since, I am your host for the moment. How about I make us some tea."

She laughed at that, as they had drunk enough tea to have had a party over the past week and more. Nodding, she sat back a little and relaxed. The smell of the tea reached her soon after, as Allen returned. As he sat down, he seemed to take a closer look at her. His expression one of concern.

"You look like you still aren't sleeping all that well Eileen."

"Well, the medicine has helped, but I am afraid to take it too often. I will run out and won't have it to help me at night when I need it most."

Smiling Allen pats her hand, moves over to the phone. Sipping her tea, she fights to keep her yawns under control. She didn't want Allen to know just how tired she was. Smiling at him each time he looked at her, she felt herself nod a little and fought it down. She couldn't fall asleep here. What would he think of her.

"Ok thanks Henry, I owe you one."

Turning back to Eileen, he smiles as he sees her nodding off more and more.

"Well I have solved your problem of running out. Henry the pharmacist has agreed to give you a couple of refills. Mind you, that will only last you a month, but I think that should help."

"Oh thank you again Allen. I seem to be deeper in debt to you by the moment."

"You don't owe me a thing Eileen, I am glad to help you out."

As she drinks more of her tea. Eileen relaxes completely for the first time in what felt like forever. Unable to stop herself, she nods off to sleep without realizing it. Watching, Allen stands up, and heads over to a door. Carefully picking up Eileen, he carries her into the room. As he strips her naked, he strokes the panties she has on. He had always loved white silk. 

Beginning as he always did, he stroked her unconscious, yet receptive body. Feeling his cock swell again. First he had to bring in his friend. Stepping back, he walks out and calls out. Knowing that his friend will hear him from downstairs.

"She is safely asleep Wayne, you can come out and enjoy your wife yet again. I doubt she even guesses."

Laughing, the man who walks in, looks nothing like the photographs at his old house. No one would guess who he was, which is how he wanted it. His plan for money and sexual satisfaction coming to fruition, with a little patience. It was a full proof plan, that would never be uncovered as they had paid another friend quite well to say it was a heart attack that had killed him. Even the insurance company had not known. 

Now that he was a rich man, from his life insurance. He intended to keep his wife, and abuse her body as he always had. Except now, she would never even realize it was real. Smiling at Allen, Wayne gets, a very wicked grin.

"Well Wayne, I think tonight will be very fun. I have always wanted to fuck my wife in her ass as another man fucks her pussy. Are you game for it. Oh and don't worry, later on you will get these panties as well."

Allen's evil grin was the only answer Wayne needed. He smiled to see Allen, stroking one of the many pairs of panties they had taken from Eileen. They knew that their fun was only about to begin now.

As they forced Eileen onto Allen's thick cock, and Wayne forced his long cock into her ass. They couldn't help but grin as Eileen first cried out, then whimpered. Her beautiful face a mixture of joy, pain, pleasure and sorrow.

The Funeral Director



©2012 Mendon Fishers

I wheeled my patient from the cooler in to my "work room."She was a 74 year old female who had died of natural causes. I had three days to prepare her so that the family could have a viewing before committing her to a plot next to her predeceased husband. 

She was joining him after a separation of almost 10 years. 

I had plenty of time to do my usual excellent job. I am a very skilled undertaker. I, Thomas Steel, didn't start out life wanting to embalm corpses. I graduated from my high school, third in my class. I wanted to be a rich and famous doctor.

So, I went on to college and studied all the courses I needed to attend medical school. After graduating from college, with a 3.7, I took my MCATS and was accepted in a better than average medical school.

It was in my fourth year there that life bit me on the ass. My parents were killed in an automobile accident. It was the typical type caused by a drunk, only in this case the drunk was my father and the innocent victim was my mother. I was an only child as were my mother and father. All of a sudden I was all alone in the world.

Having been raised a spoiled kid, I was devastated. I had no idea how to proceed with my life. My parents always made all the decisions for me. And I always went along. 

For my first decision on my own, I dropped out of Medical School. Yeah, I know , that was really stupid seeing as I had only 7 months to go before receiving my degree. But like I said, it was the first decision I had made on my own. 

My next questionable decision was to leave after the burial service and turn into the first bar I came across. 

About a year later I sobered up one night. I found myself in an alley, behind a bar, in a questionable part of a city that I didn't recognize. In other words, I didn't know where the fuck I was. I sat there in a filthy alley, leaning up against an old brick wall. 

I was trying to get myself together when the door in the wall opened and out came a very large gentleman. He looked up and down the alley and then turned back to speak into the building, 

"That asshole Tony is not back with the car yet, Boss."

My foggy brain realized that he was not a gentleman. Actually he sounded like a thug. To my dismay, he saw me sitting there.

"Who the fuck are you Asshole?" he not so politely asked.

Before I could formulate an answer, a voice called out the door, "Angelo, what did you find? Is he dangerous?"

"No Boss, just some drunken loser laying here in his own piss and puke." 

I started to protest, "I'm a medical student!" Now I really don't know why I said that. It just sort of came out.

Angelo reached down as if to hit me when that commanding voice said, "Leave him alone. When Tony gets the car here, put him in the trunk. I might have use for this 'doctor' "

And that's how I met Gino DiTucci, local crime boss and his lieutenant Angelo Pulmere .

I snapped out of my reverie and got back to work. The first thing I needed to do was finish undressing my patient. The nursing home had her dressed in a nice nightgown, appropriate for little old ladies to sleep in. I really don't know who they were trying to impress. I worked on my patients in the nude. Not me ...Them.

She looked peaceful in her sleep, except that her eyes were staring sightlessly at the ceiling tiles.

"Well," I thought, "I hope no one expects to get her PJs back," as I picked up a pair scissors. 

As soon as she was naked, I'd give her one last sponge bath. The cleaning served a couple of purposes, the first is cleanliness, the second is odor control, and lastly to add a moisturizing cream to prevent the skin from drying out and decomposing too soon. 

The object of embalming is to slow the deceased's decomposition, not prevent it. Only in Hollywood Zombie movies can decay prevention happen.

While I was washing and drying her, I examined her for any areas that might present problems while I was embalming her. Her body was in good shape from an undertaker's point of view.. 

I could use the single point procedure. One line in to her via the carotid artery and the line out attached to her jugular vein. 

The exchange process would take about two hours if I didn't run into any problems. I would need to massage her body repeatedly to prevent clots from forming and interfering with the flow of the embalming fluid, and to keep rigor mortis from setting in too soon.

I walked over to my stereo system and inserted a classical music CD. I looked at her toe tag, "Mrs. Williams, I hope you like my selection of music. If you don't, just mention it, I'll be glad to play something else." Although I always asked, I had never had any objections.

Talking to your patients is something they drilled into us in med school. I just carried forward the same logic here,

I was about an hour into exchange when I heard my double doors open. I looked up and saw Angelo pushing a casket on a trolley into my work room. He stopped and looked around the room. 

Even the really tough guys didn't like "my" work room, and his nervousness showed.

I couldn't resist the temptation, I lifted Mrs. William's hand and waved it while saying, "Hi Angelo, want to play gin while Tommy works?"

"You asshole!" he exclaimed, "Gino wants you to use this coffin to bury her in."

I looked at him. This was not an unusual request. They used my services once or twice a year to dispose of embarrassing leftovers. Only this time there was a problem. Mrs. Williams was not being cremated.

"Angelo, does Gino know that this is a burial?"

"Yeah, he knows. But there is a rush on this one. He says, 'Do it.' "

"OK, but this is an open casket. There might be an odor problem."

"There have been special steps taken so that the extra cargo will not smell."

"What about the added weight? Won't the pall bearers notice?"

"Naw the extra is a small one. No one will notice."

I knew better than to ask, "How small?"

"Ok Angelo. Put the box in the cooler. It will be at least another few hours before I'm ready to put her into it."

As I watched his back as he walked through the refrigerator door, I thought back to how this all began.

A black limo pulled into the alley. The driver stopped so that the rear door aligned opposite the open hallway entry. Tony hopped out and started to open the car's rear door.

"Hold it!" shouted Angelo, "Open the trunk first, and then give me a hand."

Tony reached in the car and I heard the lock on the trunk lid click. The next thing I knew two men were tossing me into the trunk and closing the lid. I remember being tossed around by the car's motion until I hit my head, hard. The next thing I remember, I was being hosed down with cold water and my clothes were being cut off.

It must have been a month before I rejoined the land of the living. I wasn't unconscious the entire time; I was drying out and was one very sick guy. I vomited out most of my insides, suffered through the DTs, and fought off a few pink elephants along the way. 

When I was finally dried out, I knew I'd never touch alcohol again. Mr. DiTucci visited me a few times. While he had a few encouraging words for me, his eyes were never what might be called friendly and caring. Actually they were damn scary. 

In the back of my mind I formed the feeling, "Paying him back is going to be a bitch".

My next few months were spent eating "healthy" food, exercising, and generally regaining my health. They were tough months, but I started to feel human again. I was never a "jock" type of guy. My claim to fame was academic not via sports. On the plus side I never had to go to those 12 step AA meetings. I never had to say my name is Thomas Steel and I'm a drunk.

My trainers worked on my mental acuity. My mind was exercised. They had me working all types of puzzles. There were card games, Sudoku puzzles, spelling quizzes, and good old cross word puzzles. They also played logic games with me. 

When they were starting to make progress, I innocently asked if I could continue my education and start my application for a residency. My head rang from the hit they put on it. I had to learn to keep my mouth shut. 

That night after my evening meal in my room, Mr. DiTucci paid me a visit.

"You belong to me. My plans for you do not include completing your medical education. I already have all the 'doctors' I need in my organization. You are destined for greater things. But first you will complete your training and apprenticeship under a master."

"You will be our mortician."

"Shit! I didn't like anatomy in med school. And those corpses wanted to be there." was my first thought. 

"But before we expand on 'our' plans, you need to complete your training."

"And get my, license." was my comeback.

"We can get you a license, but first you need to learn the trade, and be evaluated."

Somehow from the way he spoke I knew that the license presented no problem getting. I had the feeling I would never take the tests.

Mr. DiTucci was watching my face much closer than I realized when he said, "The right funeral director/embalmer makes more per year than the average doctor. And they don't need Malpractice Insurance." 

Then he grinned. It was a truly evil grin.

He continued, "I will provide everything you need to start the business. You will not need to pay me back any of the monies I place into your business. All you will need to do is provide me an occasional favor and some crematorium time."

I began to wake up. 

This man's organization produced a waste disposal problem that could not be solved by putting the trash out by the curb. I also realized that I might become one of these disposal problems if I refused his offer. 

"Yes Sir. I'll be the best mortician you ever saw." and so began my training. 

____________________________

The cooler door open and closed again. Angelo was back. I glanced at him long enough to determine that he wasn't a happy camper. My next "customer" was on a gurney in there. Angelo would have had to move him before he could put his load in there. 

Angelo might be a tough guy, but like most wise guys, he couldn't quite stomach a victim he didn't create.

The adrenalin, the excitement, or the endorphins created by the commission of a crime over came the natural human's aversion to a corpse. Angelo was no exception. 

"Did Mr. Denney need any attention?"

Angelo covered his mouth and ran from my work shop. I hoped he made it to the sink. I hated cleaning up. 

I went back to work on Mrs. Williams. I had to keep up the massage. I didn't want any blood clots to form and interfere with the flow of the formaldehyde. Creating additional ports in a body to facilitate the exchange was just extra work.

As I listened to Angelo heave, I remembered one delivery man from a while back. 

I tried to pull my dead body trick on him only it backfired. The man quickly realized what I was doing. Without a word he walked over to the woman I was working on. She was a middle aged suicide. 

Because it was an "other than normal" death, the medical examiner performed an autopsy on her. 

I had her on my table lying on her back with her head resting on a block. I had opened up the "Y" incision the coroner had put in her chest and removed the visceral bag they had returned to her chest.I had filled the plastic bag with a special mixture of embalming fluids designed to completely protect the contents. I was in the process of sewing her back up when Mr. DiTucci's delivery arrived. 

He tossed her modesty cloth on the floor and bent over her crotch. He looked up at me and took a big bite out of her vulva. He walked out of my work room, chewing. 

I didn't make it too the sink. 

Later I found out that guy was a special breed of wise guy. Mr. DiTucci used his skills as an interrogator. He could cut his victim up slowly while preventing the person's immediate death. He would question the poor soul as he did the deed. 

He had been known to be able to keep his subject alive for up to a week and he always got the information requested. It was said that the victim was usually begging to be killed many days before he was actually put down. 

From that point on, I only messed with Angelo and the other wise guys I knew.

I still had another hour left to massage Mrs. Williams before I could dress her and start on her makeup and hair. 

So I let my mind wander, again.

___________;__

I was back to my early years with Mr. DiTucci. I had finished my apprenticeship and said license appeared in the mail one day, just like magic! 

I was now Thomas Steel, Undertaker.

One day Angelo and Mr. DiTucci drove me across town to an upscale neighborhood. There I was given the keys to my funeral home. After the grand tour and introduction to my staff, I was taken into one of the private rooms and explained the facts are of life. 

As I had suspected, Mr. DiTucci had a disposal problem. My job was to solve it.

Actually, this was a little more complicated than at first glance. The authorities monitored funeral homes closely, even closer if the home had its own crematorium. I couldn't just fire up the burners and toss in a body. I had to keep records! And boy were they a bitch. Besides the "disposal" body, I needed a legitimate corporse. With that legitimate customer I had to keep a death certificate, a permission for cremation from the relatives, a "Certificate of Weight" before cremation and another of the weight of the ashes after. 

I also needed to provide description of the disposal of the ashes, ie, burial, presented to and signed for by relatives, or else I'd better have them in a box on a shelf in the back room.

The State showed up at random intervals and inspected my records. But as with any system designed by beauocrats, there were holes. And we exploited the holes. I remember how nervous I was the first time a "customer" left my business a little heavy. 

I worried about the State Police walking in my door and dragging me away in handcuffs. 

Eventually, I got so bold as to have a 97 lbs customer's ashes leave with the extra weight of a 300 lbs disposal's ashes. 

"Grandma, must have put on a little weight, these last month's." was the most common comment I heard

Mrs. Williams was going to be one of those, but she was going in the ground, not the oven. That way if she is ever exhumed, I'd have a shit load of explaining to do to the authorities, if Mr. Gino DiTucci let me live long enough to try and explain. 

That's right Mr. DiTucci is an equal opportunity employer and I'm an employee.

My classical music CD ended so I decided now would be a nice time for a break. Besides, I needed the picture of Mrs Williams that her daughter had dropped off along with the old ladies make up. The picture is so that I know what she should look like when I'm done with the makeup and hair that will provide her relatives with the familiar look and smell of their beloved. 

Let's face it, no one can make a dead person look like they did when they were alive. The mortician aims to trigger those familiar sights so that relatives will say, "She looks so natural," or something akin to that. That's the mark of a good mortician. 

And I'm a good mortician.

When I got upstairs, I called for my wife. It is around 9:00 PM and she should be home by now. Amy doesn't like it when there is a corpse in the house. She says it gives her creeps. She likes it even less when I work on a corpse. Rest assured I never get any sex on those nights. 

Tonight will be one of those nights.

Hearing no answering greeting from Amy, I guess she's not back yet. She told me at dinner that she was going out shopping with her friend Marilyn. Well it was 9:00 and the mall should be closing. I expect her back soon. 

As I opened Mrs. Williams file, I ruminate how a woman can spend so much time shopping and still have nothing to show for it. 

I grabbed the picture and return to my basement work room.

It was close to 11:30 PM when I'd finished with Mrs Williams. She was dressed in her church clothes and residing in her casket, with her new roommate. She was all ready for the viewings. 

Sick bastard that I am, as I climbed the stairs, I wondered if her husband was going to complain at the pearly gates about her new traveling partner"?.

I went up to the master bedroom in the residential quarters to take a shower. While I couldn't smell anything Amy always complained I smelled of death when I worked in the basement. I spent an extra long time washing with the fancy french soaps Amy kept in the shower. 

As I was drying, I heard my wife walk into the bedroom. She bumped into the closet door, her dresser, the end of the bed, and one of the night tables. 

I guess they must have stopped for a drink or three.

I walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Amy pushed past me and got on her knees to worship the porcelain goddess. I turned around and walked back into the bathroom to hold her hair out of the mess she was making in the toilet. 

Amy had long dirty blond hair and would be really impossible to live with if her vomit happened to get on it. She wouldn't care if it was her fault or not. I should have prevented it.

Husbands have such a crutch to bear.

As I walked around behind her to hold her head, I noticed she had a very short skirt on. But what stopped me was the fact that I was looking at her bare butt. "What the happened to her underwater?" was the first thought that ran skipping across my big brain. 

My little brain just said, "Whoopee!!!!"

Listening to Amy wretch, I wondered why my little head was reacting. Then I remembered it had been a little over a month since I had paid her treasure pit a visit. 

My little guy was demanding his due.

I was holding her hair from the back when I noticed that the right inside of her thigh was shiny. I looked closer. It was a thick white fluid running out of her vagina. I hadn't put any "thick white fluids" in her recently. 

I almost pushed her head into the toilet with the object of holding it there until she stopped moving. But then she heaved again and the sound broke my concentration.

She stopped emptying out her stomach and sat back up. She tried to cuddle with me, but I was having no part of her. She assumed it was the smell of her vomit, and asked me to help her get in the shower. 

I hit the control for all eight of the shower heads and pushed her in. Since we had instant on hot water, there was no temperature problem. But she got drenched and she hated getting drenched. It not only soaked all her clothes, but her carefully coiffed hairdo. She was planning on that hair style for tomorrow nights dance at the country club. 

I left her in the shower and went back into the bedroom to redress in my "work" clothes. I was too pissed to sleep and I needed the quiet my work shop afforded me to think out my actions.

I sat in my desk chair and ran over all the options open to me:

1) Divorce her? No too costly and I had no real proof. 

2) I would lose all the hard earned respect that I had earned within my "extended family".  If I couldn't control my own wife, what good was I too them.

3) And besides I had no proof of any specific miss deeds. Now only strong suspicions.

Those were the thoughts that kept me awake most of the night.

At 8:00 am I walked back into the bedroom to make myself presentable for Mrs. William's 2:00 PM viewing. Amy was sprawled across the bed spread sound asleep. She was still dressed in the wet clothes she was wearing when I tossed her in the shower last night. Her carefully styled hair was a rat's nest of tangles, and she was sleeping with her mouth open gently snoring. 

She really did not look her best.

I wasn't very quiet as I shaved showered, and dressed in my dark blue suit. When I left the bedroom, I looked every part the funeral director. I walked into the garage and climbed into my black Cadillac. 




The Funeral Director



I needed some coffee and breakfast before embarking on my plan.

I walked into a small family dinner around the corner where I normally grabbed a quick meal. At one of the tables, sat a few of the men I used as drivers, or parking attendants, or other gofers to make a funeral run smoothly. 

Angelo was one of those guys.

Normally, I only used two or three of them on viewing days. The big crew, I used as drivers on funeral day. They drove the limousines, and the hearse. They provided the expertise needed to handle the deceased in and out of the hearse, the church, and of course at the grave yard.

Angelo was dressed to be an attendant. I guess he was sent over to keep an eye on Mrs. Williams. That was alright because I had planned to ask if he could possibly suggest a solution for the problem Amy presented me. 

I joined the boy's for breakfast. We laughed, joked, talked sports, and generally had a good time. Angelo watched me with a curious eye the whole time. When I picked up his check, the look in his eyes changed to outright amazement. He knew I wanted something. Since he had ridden with one of the other guys, he caught a ride with me back to the funeral home. 

In the car I explained my problem to him.

After listening to me without requesting any clarifications, he asked only one question, "Do you want a perminate solution?" 

"Yes"

"OK, I'll discuss it with Gino and get back to you." was his only answer.

After we arrived back at the funeral home, he went down to the basement to place Mrs Williams in the small freight elevator as I opened her viewing room and turned on the lights. About the time we got the casket situated, the flowers started arriving. 

Angelo and I spent the rest of the morning helping arrange the flowers. Soon thereafter Mrs. Williams's family started arriving. Mrs. Williams had asked to be buried with her rings on. I opened the casket and left the mother and daughter to spend this last bit of private time together. 

Angelo commented on the woman's rings being buried with her and how a dishonest funeral director could profit from this as he put it,"Stupidly"

I looked at him and laughed, "You have no idea how much I'm making on this party. Believe me, the rings are small potatoes. "

Angelo thought about what I said and started laughing, "You know it's just like Gino says 'don't chase small potatoes, go for the whole enchiladas. '"

It was approaching 5:00PM and we escorted the family from the room. I made short work of closing and locking the casket while Angelo misted all the floral arrangements. The last thing I did before closing up the viewing room was turn down the air conditioning to 60. 

We went to dinner at the same diner we had breakfast in. There were four of us. The two outside guys, Angelo, and I. When we got there some of the family was also there. You know it's a funny study of human nature to watch the interactions of all the patrons in the Diner. 

The regulars knew what the four of us did for a living. When we were dressed in our "working clothes" but because there were nicely dressed but somber acting strangers, the normal diner crowd was a lot quieter and less boisterous than normal..

Our waitress gave us "the look". When I acknowledged it and looked over at the grieving family, she nodded back. From that point on, the other waitresses kept the regular patrons toned down. 

When dinner was over, I walked over to the family table and asked if they had enough room in their cars for everyone comfortably. If not I had one of the limousines out side and we could shuttle everyone back to the funeral home. 

To help out the diner owner offered them parking in his lot for the evening. After that discussion it took two trips but we got the family back to the funeral home therefore avoiding their driving in a time of grief. 

Plus the diner owner refused to provide a check for the family's meal.

The public viewing started at 7:00 PM. People were lining up at least 15 minutes early to be ready when the doors opened. Within half an hour, the line of waiting viewers was outside the door and I had my guys walking the line with bottled water, bottled lemonade, and some simple snacks we purchased at a nearby bakery.

I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off for the next two hours. At nine, the lines finally ended inside the front doors and since the time for viewing had ended I had my outside guys start asking people to return the next day for the funeral if they tried to get in.

When the building finally emptied out, I had one of my guys drive the family back to our trusty diner. Angelo and I chauffeured the overflow in another limousine. My crew sat together at one table. The family sat in a private corner where the diner had pushed together a couple of tables.

I was impressed that the diner's crew was this thoughtful until Angelo mentioned he'd called before leaving the funeral home. 

My esteem for Angelo went up a notch. I almost resolved to stop teasing him, well almost that is.

We were discussing the logistics of tomorrow's service when it got quiet. The city's Catholic Bishop walked in. He looked around and walked over and sat with the family. Now I was impressed. The head man very rarely hobnobbed with us mere mortals. And yet there he was sitting and apparently planning on eating with the family.

I thought, "Just who the hell (oops!) heck was Mrs. Williams?"

I started making plans on how to handle it if HE visited tomorrow. 

Good old Angelo had cornered one of the lesser family members. It seemed Mrs. Williams had been the Bishop's house keeper for the last 40 years. She was the Bishop's gatekeeper. If someone wanted to get the Bishop's ear, they talked to Mrs. Williams. If she felt that whatever that person was peddling was worthy of the man's ear, she started whispering in the Bishop's ear every chance she got. 

That night after everyone had left and it was only Angelo and I, he helped me close Mrs. William's casket and put her back in the cooler. She was going to have a very busy day tomorrow and I wanted her to look her best.

After we finished Angelo started, "I talked to the boss. He wants to gather evidence of your wife's fuckin' around (Angelo is not the most discreet individual), before he decides what action to take. You are to keep your mouth shut and pretend to be a loving husband. Do you understand?"

"Yes"

"Ok, let us handle this. And that's an order."

After he left, I climbed the stairs to our master bedroom. I undressed hanging my suit and tie on my side of the closet. I headed for the shower. It had been a long day and I was tired. When I finished and climbed into an empty bed, I realized that I had not seen my wife all day. 

"Fuck her!" I thought and fell sound asleep.

The next morning I awoke to find Amy sleeping next to me. Her clothes were thrown about the bedroom, she was again snoring. But this morning she stank of booze, cigarette smoke, and sweat. I guess she was too tired to shower before going to bed. 

One more wake up like this and I was going to start sleeping in one of the other bedrooms. I was not going to put up with this kind of treatment. I got up and made my morning ablutions. 

I must have been too noisy (on purpose) because I got a nasty look and a sarcastic request to "try and keep it down. "

I told her I don't feel well. "I must be coming down with the flu." I mumbled an apology, but somehow managed to slam the bedroom door when I left. 

I went downstairs and got Mrs. Williams out of the cooler. After checking her both visually and for any tell tale odors, I put her on the small elevator and sent her upstairs to the viewing room. There I placed her casket flowers in place and checked the rest of the arraignments for signs of aging. There were a few buds and leaves that I needed to remove. But all and all, they were holding up better than expected.

As was our custom on the day of a funeral, I had a full crew on. One of the group picked up some donuts and coffee from the local Dunkin Donuts. A couple of dozen and some coffee went into my guys break room. The majority went into the family waiting room. For the family, it would be a long, stressful day.

The family and a few friends arrived and took sustenance and comfort in the coffee and donuts. 

As the funeral began, I felt a hand on my arm. I looked around and found a young priest standing there. 

"If HE has the occasion to visit here in the future, please arrange to have a plain bagel. That is his preferred breakfast," was all he said.

I kept my comment very polite, but inside I was fuming. "The Balls on that kid!" I thought.

The family finished up in the viewing room. It was the last time they got to look at her, I got Mrs. Williams ready to take her ride to the church while my guys loaded up all the flowers that would fit in the two extra hearses I owned. 

When everything was loaded, I started the motorcade to the church.

Arriving at the church I was shocked, every parking spot both in the parking lot and on the street were taken. Some of the people had started parking on the lawn. We pulled up in front of the doors and started carrying all the florals, except the casket arrangement into the church. 

The church was standing room only. I began to wonder if I had room for Mrs. Williams let alone all the flowers. Luckily the rector and his helpers helped in finding places for everything. I guess he wanted everything perfect because the bishop was here.

I arranged the pall bearers at the top of the stairs just inside the front doors, with instructions not to touch anything until they were instructed to. My guys were trained in carrying a "customer" up or down stairs and over uneven ground. 

At no time was Mrs. Williams to leave the horizontal position.

When she was placed on the cart, I instructed the pall bearers to place a hand on her coffin, but let my two guys (one front and one rear) proved the locomotion and guidance. 

I nodded to the Bishop that we were ready.

He started the service. 

The organist started the processional. 

The congregation stood. 

I almost shouted, "Let the parade begin." I said almost. I kept my mouth shut. 

The service ran a little over an hour. The Bishop was a little long winded in his praise of Mrs. Williams.

We got everyone loaded and started the procession to the cemetery. It was a long line of cars, I was glad that I had requested extra traffic officers to accompany us. 

Arrival at the graveyard was always a traumatic time for me. I could envision the caretakers guiding us into a dead end or even worse, the wrong grave site. But thanks to good fortune, we pulled up in front of the site. 

My professional eyes surveyed the set up. It was well done. The hole was ready with the equipment for holding and then lowering Mrs. Williams into her new home. There was green carpeting placed over any damaged or bare soil, plus there were about 100 folding chairs set up under a tent, and bless their hearts, some of my guys must have transported all the extra flowers to this location. 

Mrs. Williams was receiving a very nice sendoff.

We unloaded Mrs. Williams from the hearse and my guys carried her to the grave with the pall bearers and family walking behind. 

The Bishop led the way.

It was a typical grave side service. The only thing different was the fact that, and I swear, all the guests placed a flower on her casket. When the time came, it looked like a mound of flowers was descending into the hole.

Mrs. Williams was now in her new home.

As I was helping the relatives into the limousines, the Bishop walked up to me and said, "Thank you and your crew for the very profession sendoff you gave my housekeeper. She would have loved it."

He patted my arm and went about greeting all the attendees who were hanging around him. 

We dropped the family back at the funeral home to their transportation home. After the lot emptied, my guys and I followed our usual tradition and went to either a late breakfast or early lunch at our local diner.

The next few weeks were a little busier than usual. I attributed it to Mrs. Williams. Her funeral was the talk of the area and a lot of people want their loved one to piggy back on her fame. 

I didn't mind the extra income. 

I suspected that I'd need the extra to pay court costs and attorney fees generated by my soon to be started divorce. Amy? She didn't have a clue. She kept going out 2-3 times a week, "with her girlfriends, shopping."

One afternoon right after Amy left to go "shopping", Angelo drove in with two rather well dressed gentlemen. There were not the usual traveling companions I was used to seeing Angelo with. His normal friends, for lack of a better term, were best described as thugs. The kind of men you didn't want to meet in a dark alley.

This time one was a small, and bookish in appearance. He was partially bald and wore very thick glasses. The other gentleman was very distinguished looking with silver hair, perfect teeth, and a deep tan.

Angelo introduced them to me as Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones. They were Mr. DiTucci's bookkeeper and attorney. (I'll let you guess which was which). We had a very nice chat in my office. 

And you were right they had waited for Amy to leave before pulling in.

As a result of our meeting, Mr. Smith left with a record of my financial accounts, promising to have them returned to me, divorce proof. Mr. Jones explained the legal stuff to me. He said I would be the injured party in this suit and as such would receive the bulk of the assets.

He also mentioned that I would be protected by my prenup.

"Prenup? We don't have a prenup."

"You will. It's being created as we speak."

I started to open my mouth again, but Angelo put a hand on my arm. I kept my mouth shut. 

Mr. DiTucci employed some interesting professional help. 

Poor Amy. I had the feeling she was really going to get screwed in more than the ways than she liked.

That night when Amy was not home by 6:00 pm, I took myself out to a club for dinner. I ran into a bunch of friends and had a lot of fun. To be exact, so much fun that I had to take a cab home at midnight.

Amy was pissed when I got home. She lit into me about being inconsiderate of her and not telling her I was going out. She had prepared a nice dinner (read ordered take out) for us and had plans for a romantic evening. 

"Yeah right," I thought, "Like I want sloppy 2nds or 3rds."

I was banished to one of the other bedrooms that night. 

"You stink. You're drunk. You're not sleeping with me until you apologize."

As I dropped off, I pondered if I should start moving my things into one of the other bedrooms. But I decided against it. I'd only have to move everything back in a few months. And besides, I had more stuff in the closet than she did.

If she didn't like it, she could move her shit.

Another month went by. Angelo kept bringing me forms to sign. At first I asked what I was signing.

'Shut up and sign," was all he said.

I stopped asking and just signed.

One afternoon, he showed up while I was eating (alone as usual) at the club. He handed me an envelope and a brochure for a funeral directors convention in LasVegas. 

It was next week. 

"Your flight leaves Friday morning. All the details are in the envelope. You are to go there and have a very public good time. Visit the shows, the booths and any place where you will be seen and remembered. Do not bring back any STDs! Stay away from all the women. You need to present the impression you are very dedicated to your wife."

I opened the envelope, there was only one ticket and the hotel reservations were for one. I guess Amy wasn't invited. 

I looked at Angelo. "She'll be fine. But her boy friend won't be. She'll blame you, but you'll be in Nevada

Amy was still sleeping from another late night when I left in the morning. 

So all I did was leave the brochure with, "I'm here all week," written in marker across the front.

Then I caught a cab to the airport.

It was a typical boring flight to LasVegas. The cabin attendants were marginally friendly, there was no food, and the seating in coach was cramped and uncomfortable. Some day I'm going to be rich enough to fly 1st class, or even rent my own plane.

It was a couple of hours from when the wheels touched down to when I finished putting away my suitcases. Ok I was excited. I'd never been in this entertainment mecca before and I wanted to see and do everything before leaving next Friday.

My first job was to register for the convention. So off I went to find the registration suite. I was in the Mirage and that's a big hotel. It seemed like it took me fifteen minutes to find the the convention registration desk. It was staffed by two of the cutest young ladies it had ever been my pleasure to meet. Since I was early, Sally Kelly and Millie Schmidt took their time and walked me through all the sessions and explained their content. 

I was impressed, not because they knew their stuff, but because they weren't creeped out by the subject matter. It seems that these two charming young ladies were from a local mortician's school. They were studying to someday be my possible competition. 

They signed me up for some interesting sessions, some covering new techniques, others new equipment, and others explaining additional profit centers. They also pointed out which sessions they were attending and asked if I wanted them to save me a seat. (My mother didn't raise a fool. Of course I accepted their offer.)

That evening I ate at one of the many buffets in the hotel. The food was good, plentiful, and cheap. I talked with some of the other diners while in line and found a couple of guys that were also here for the "Director's" Conference (as the hotel liked to call it). 

That way other guests did not get grossed out.

We became acquainted over dinner. They were old hands at this convention, having attended for many years. They were unaccompanied as their wives were no longer thrilled attending. That night the guys took me around to various hotels for either gambling, or some of the better shows. 

We even stopped at the Cheetah for their Nude Review. I had to sleep on my back that night.

The next morning I got up, cleaned up, and dressed in comfortable but subdued clothes and headed off to find a breakfast buffet. While I was in line waiting for my eggs, I saw my little cuties from the registration table. They saw me in line and pointed to an empty chair at their table. 

We had a great breakfast (some day I'll even remember what the food tasted like) together. They whipped out an extra copy of their schedule (for me?) and we planned our day. They had it all figured out that we could eat not only lunch together, but dinner and an after the free floor show, snack together. 

At first I figured that they were just trying to live out of my wallet, but then I remembered everything they planned was free.

It was midnight before we parted company, and with the breakfast time selected so we could meet. I was tired. Remember I was an almost 40 something trying to keep up with two 20 somethings. My age was showing. I pledged to start going to a gym when I returned home and loose some of my flab. 

The rest of the week just flew by. If I wasn't in a seminar, I was with one of the girls. When Friday arrived, I knew I had to do something fancy for the two of them. I got tickets to the best show in town. Now they weren't front row but they cost as if they were. I made reservations at one of the better restaurants around. (Later Angelo said I should have called him, "We have friends in Vegas and I could have gotten you in for free.")

When the girls found out that I had fancy plans, they were both over joyed but sad. Sad because they had nothing nice enough to wear, and probably wouldn't be allowed in either venue. 




The Funeral Director



I solved that little problem with a trip through the Mall at Ceasers Palace. That little trip cost me a few thousand dollars, but if you could have seen the looks of happiness on their faces. Well anyway, it was worth it. That night I would have loved to tell you that I'd had sex with both of them. Well it didn't happen. That night we exchanged cell phone numbers and each other's email address.

I had great hopes to see them again, but it I was a realist and didn't expect it to happen. You know "age difference" and all that.

Saturday morning, I caught my return flight home. I slept most of the way only awaking when the wheels touched down. I took a cab back to the funeral home and carried my luggage in the side door. Well you could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard Amy say,"Welcome home, honey. Did you have a good time?"

My first thought was,"Why weren't you dead?" Actually I almost said it out loud before I caught myself.

"Yes, it was very interesting."

By now she was standing right in front of me. She put her arms around my neck and I got a toe curling set of kisses. 

"Why don't you take a shower and get cleaned up. I've missed you and would like to get reacquainted. "At this she rubbed her body against mine and kissed me deeply again.

"OK, what's going on?" I thought. I needed to call Angelo.

I got upstairs and took my clothes off and locked myself in the bathroom. I started the shower for the noise and dialed Angelo on my cell. He answered on the second ring, laughing. "Surprised?" was his greeting.

"Damn it Angelo. What is going on?"

"Just enjoy my gift to you. She has seen the light. If she back slides, call me. We'll use plan B."

He broke the connection. I erased the outgoing call log and put the phone on the counter. I unlocked the door and climbed in the shower. Before five minutes had passed, Amy joined me in the shower. 

We had a great night of sex. Amy tried to kill me with her body. I would have loved to say we rekindled our love for each other, but she was faking everything. She did everything I liked to me, but nothing for herself. 

While she did lubricate, it wasn't the copious amounts she used to. And her orgasms were faked. 

She made sure I had one before faking hers. This was never the case with the old Amy. She usually had multiple orgasms before I had mine. 

Angelo and I would have a long talk tomorrow.

Amy took off again for the mall the next afternoon.

I called Angelo and set up a meeting.

"OK, what's going on? I expected to be free and clear when I returned. You can imagine my surprise when I found her home."

"Keep your shirt on. She's scared. Last night you should have had some of the best lovin' in years. Am I right?"

"I didn't have any loving last night. I just had sex. She tried to fuck me to death. There was no love in her actions, only raw sex. I don't think she even enjoyed any of it."

"Good. Her lover disappeared from his bed while you were gone. She was spending all her time in bed with him from Saturday until Wednesday. When she woke up Wednesday afternoon, he was gone. Only his dick and balls, and a lot of blood were left in the bed. She freaked! She doesn't know if this was because of your action or because of something he'd done. He was an arrogant prick and had made a lot of enemies the last few years."

"But Angelo, what should I do? She's no longer a loving wife to me. I don't know if I can live the rest of my life in a loveless marriage."

"You, do nothing. We are accumulating enough evidence for a legal divorce. When the time is right, we'll arrange it so you have a divorce. She'll find a new boy toy, fall in love with his big dick, and try to get all your money and property in a divorce. Mr. Smith will spoil that plan and they will end up with nothing."

"But what if they try to kill me?"

"Too bad if they succeed." Then he looked at my face and started laughing.

"Murder is our business. We'll protect you unless you do something stupid. Remember they are only beginners. We are the professionals. But we'd like to use the legal methods. It prevents problems with law enforcement."

We finished our coffee and headed back to our respective jobs. 

________________

It was almost a year later when the State Police arrived at my door. I knew one of the troopers because he moonlighted as traffic control for me.

"Hi, there was no need to ring the bell for you. Just walk in anytime. Hell if I can't trust you guys, this state is in real trouble" 

I had meant it as a joke. They didn't laugh.

"Sir, I'm sorry to inform you that your wife Amy was killed in a fire earlier today."

"How?" I said shakely. 

"For some reason the meth lab she was in exploded. She died as a result. "

"Well at least she didn't suffer. She went quickly. Do you know if I will be able show her in an open casket?"

"I'm sorry you asked sir, the explosion didn't kill her. It trapped her under a work bench. She burned to death. The first firemen on the scene could still hear her screaming. And as far as an open casket, I don't think so."

I slowly sank to the floor. "Thank you Angelo" raced through my mind before I fainted. 

I awoke to find myself on my office couch with an EMT in attendance. He was fussing over me. I thanked him and the officers. "I'd just like to be alone now if that's possible."

They left me to my thoughts. 

Later that evening I heard a car drive into my garage. Before I could cross the downstairs, Angelo and Mr. DiTucci walked into the residential section of the funeral parlor. They both had looks of pure sorrow on their faces.

"Thomas, please believe us that we had nothing to do with that explosion." said Mr. DiTucci. "Meth is a dangerous chemical. They did it to themselves."

"Yeah," seconded Angelo.

"Thank you both for taking the time to explain it to me. I just wish she hadn't died so hard."

"Thomas, we were gathering the necessary information required for you divorce. There was no need for us to cause this. "

"Angelo, when her body is released, please retrieve her and bring her here for Thomas to prepare. "

"Thomas, may I suggest that you creamate her. The fire will have caused too much damage to repair. And you don't want any of her "new" friends at a viewing"

He continued, "Angelo, please arrange for Thomas to receive some extra protection. These animals do not think correctly because of all the drugs they take. I do not want one of them to have ideas. If those animals persist, we may need to take further actions." 

Angelo left with Mr. DiTucci. I was alone with my grief. I opened a new bottle of scotch I kept in my office for the family members of the deceased. I poured four fingers in a glass. I tried to get some ice, but someone had left the ice tray empty. 

I drank all four fingers down in two gulps.

The next morning, I awoke to a terrible headache, a nasty mouth, and an empty bottle of scotch. My office girl arrived with a cup of coffee and some aspirin.

Angelo followed her in the door. 

"When you get cleaned up, I'll take you out to breakfast."

"I don't need food."

"I didn't ask you. I'm telling you."

He helped me up stairs and into my shower, clothes and all. The hot water started the clearing processes in my mind. By the time he and I walked out the door, I was starting to feel human. 

When we arrived at the diner, it was a constant parade by the regulars to my table. They all offered their condolences.

Angelo and I sat there about two hours. The parade never stopped.

At one point I said to Angelo, "I never knew she was so liked by the regular folks."

"You're an idiot. Most didn't even know her and those that did, didn't like her. It's you they like and they are trying to ease your sorrow."

And then a big biker walked into the diner. He looked around and started toward me. Angelo and a couple of other wise guys, sitting elsewhere, stood up. The biker got a nasty sneer on his face but just as quickly as it appeared, he left. One of Angelo's guys followed him out, the other started talking on his cell phone.

There was a detective who had just sat down to lunch when all this started. He stared at Angelo for about 30 seconds before returning to his meal. From the looks between the two of them, I guessed some sort of truce was reached between them regarding the biker. 

Angelo and I returned to the funeral home.

It was a long afternoon. Angelo kept receiving calls on his cell. He never did more than listen. The only time I heard him speak was when he said,"Do it." 

Later I swear I heard fire trucks off in the distance across town.

But nothing ever came of it.

And a week later, all of Angelo's men were no longer around me.

I was alone again when my phone rang. It was one of the girls from LasVegas so long ago. She was calling from the airport looking for a ride. 

I got in a limousine and started out after her.

At the airport I found both my Vegas buddies standing with their luggage, waiting for me. They both had worried expressions as I pulled up. I jumped out my door and just grabbed both of them in bear hug. 

They hugged me back. 

I couldn't hold back any longer. The emotions poured forth.

One of the girls drove home, I was too overwrought to attempt to. 

When we reach home, Angelo was waiting. He looked over both of them and said, "Thanks for coming. He needs you both."

It took a few more days before I was starting to resemble a human being again. 

On a trip to the kitchen, I overheard Angelo talking on his cell. "The girls were an excellent idea. I just wish we were still young. I'll see how long we can keep them here." ...{Pause}... "No Sir, they are really students studying to be morticians. "

I walked into the room. Angelo changed the subject.

When he hung up, he looked at me and said. "The Coroner's Office called. She's ready to be released for disposal."

"Thank you"

I went back upstairs and got into my bed.

Later that afternoon, both girls joined me. One on each side. They didn't say a word. They just held me all night.

The next morning after coffee the three of us drove to the Coroner's Office. I backed in front of one of the overhead doors. I left the girls on the front seat and went into the office to sign the paper work. Usually the attendants were laughing and joking with the drivers. 

Today it got really quiet when I walked in. 

I felt like yelling, "She's dead. I can deal with it." But I didn't. I just smiled and started signing. When I got all done, the attendant handed me my half. I exited into the back.

When I got back there, I found that the girls had already placed the Amy's bagged body in the wooden casket I had placed for her in the hearse. I figured if she wanted to burn herself up, the least I could do was finish what she started. 

I'd cremate her.

The girls wouldn't let me drive. They made me sit in the middle. 

When we arrived back at the home, I found a crowd waiting for us. There was Mr. DiTucci, Angelo, my regular funeral day guys, the traffic escort crew, my receptionist, the staff from the diner, some of the grave diggers, a few of the florists, and (surprise, surprise) the Bishop. 

No one would let me touch her casket. Everyone took their regular position for a funeral procession. The Bishop led the group into the crematorium saying the funeral Mass. 

The room wasn't that big so it was really crowded. But somehow almost everyone squeezed in.

The one of the girls opened the door on what we privately called, "The Oven". While her partner kept it open, Amy's pall bearers slide her inside the crematorium. The Bishop shook holy water on her wooden coffin. 

Someone closed the iron door. 

Someone else lit the burner. 

The crowd started singing, "On Eagle's Wings." they were very loud. They drowned out the sound of the burners, but they could not cover up the smell. 

Most people would never notice the odor, but if you had done as many cremations as I had, you would recognize the smell of burning flesh.

My eyes started leaking tears again. This time the girls held both my hands. The Bishop turned and placed both his hands on my shoulders, "Son, it's ok to cry. Let it out. You're a good man, but you can't keep her transgressions bottled up inside you. Let it all come out!" 

The big tough funeral director that I was, dropped to my knees on the concrete. Both girls knelt with me and held my shoulders. The Bishop placed his hands on my head. 

The singing continued. 

Soon the temperature inside the retort would reach 1600 degrees. Amy would be vaporized after about two hours. We would leave her remains in the retort until tomorrow so they have time to cool. 

She never actually expressed her wishes as to the disposal of her remains. She had no living relatives. They had all passed long ago. So her disposal was at my choosing. 

I wanted to extract some form of revenge on her. 

As I plotted something nasty the Bishop spoke, "I used to see her sitting on the bench looking over the small pond in the cemetery across from my garden. May I offer her a resting place in my garden overlooking the pond?"

"Hell", I thought, "Why not?" 

"Of course Bishop. She'd like that." The problem of Amy had been solved by a well meaning but oblivious individual. I wonder what his offer would have been is someone had told him that she had burnt to death in a meth lab, completely naked, with some bikers, and higher than a kite. 

But then he was one of those "turn the other cheek," guys. So it might not have mattered to him.

The girls realized that my mind had drifted away to some other pleasant place. They didn't know what I might be thinking, so they grabbed Angelo and the three of them marched me out of the chamber. As soon as I left, the singing dropped off and people started leaving. 

Besides my staff, the Bishop stayed until the burners shut off. 

Tomorrow one of the guys would collect her ashes, put the bone pieces that did not burn through a grinder, box her up in a cardboard container and deliver it to the Bishop. The whole box would weigh about four pounds. 

Not a lot to say for a human being. Thirty-three years of achievements reduced to about four pounds of ash. 

"Life's a bitch and then you die" I saw that on a bumper sticker once. I guess it applies. 

It took me about a month to get back to the old "Tommy". The dark thoughts lightened and I started being human again. 

The girls ran two funerals while I was "away". The families were pleased with the results. The girls were not fully qualified morticians, only funeral directors. So they had to hire the embalming work out. This almost ate up all my profit on the funerals. 

And even worse, the man's work was nowhere near my levels of quality.

So I made a decision about the girls. I would continue their education as interns working for me. All I had to do was square it with the school. 

Oh yes, I also need to get Mr. DiTucci's permission first. 

The school was easy, but Mr. DiTucci proved to be tougher. In the end, I called in the big guns, I asked Angelo to help me convince him. It took Angelo only a couple of hours to get permission. I was in awe of Angelo. I even swore to stop the practical jokes with dead bodies.

The three of us sat the girls down and explained our proposition to them. They accepted before I was more than half way done. The only thing they needed was some type of a small job for spending money. Angelo looked at me hard. While paying an intern was against my basic principles, the girls started at $15 an hour, 40 hour minimum. 

The girls were over joyed. Angelo just smiled at me. 

Their schooling began the next day with a trip to the supply store to purchase each one of them their own makeup kit. You would have thought it was Christmas in my car the way the girls carried on. Back at the funeral home, I tasked them with setting up their kits after first getting on the Internet and deciding the best way to proceed.

When I first met them at the convention in LasVegas, they acted like very mature 25-28 year old young ladies. With their new make up kits, they acted like a couple of 14 year olds. Well as long as they acted like mature young ladies in front of families, I could put up with the giggling.

Angelo adopted the role of protector for the girls. I pity the first guy who hurts their feelings or, heaven forbid, breaks their heart. We'd probably find his body floating in some lake. 

The girls had him wrapped around their little fingers. 

Mr. DiTucci would stop by every month "just to take us to lunch." He would get a kick out of how the girls manipulated Angelo. He was nice to them, but he never succumbed to their charms. They couldn't quite figure out Mr. DiTucci. But their feminine senses cautioned them around him. 

Smart move, girls. 

They worked on a couple of intakes. Both of them were elderly women. The girls learned the proper respect for the deceased. There would be no joking around and no giggling. The music was appropriate for the deceased's Age group. Most of the time I worked on the elderly, so classical music was usually called for. 

The first time the girls worked on an actual human being was a trip. We had gone over all the steps involved in the preparation of the remains before the actual embalming was started.

But this was the first time they would touch a dead human. It would be a make or break moment for them,

I brought our customer out from the cooler. She was in a body bag that the local hospital uses to protect the remains. I wheeled the remains out and asked the girls to put Mrs. Santiago on our table while I got some supplies. 

Actually, I wanted to step back and watch them handle Mrs Santiago. 

This was the first make or break moment.

One took her head and the other her feet. They were progressing nicely, except that they were lifting Mrs. Santiago, body bag and all. 

Wrong!!!!

"Girls, Mrs Santiago does not need her body bag. Please place her on our table "Au natural". It will make it so much easier to give her her last bath. "

I was not going to help the girls. They had to do this themselves. It was very much in their training, but someday they would need to handle an accident victim or, even worse, an autopsy case. I will bring the girls along slowly, but they must progress.

They stared at Mrs. Santiago trying to gather the courage to touch her.

I watched them steel themselves for that first touch. They each put a hand into the bag and on Mrs. Santiago's body. I let them slowly get used to the feeling. I was in no rush. They had to take this first baby step. 

I watched them look each other in the eyes and then steel themselves for that next step. Lifting Mrs. Santiago onto the table. The girls sort of froze at this point so I had to place a little humanity into this process.

"Mrs Santiago has been in that plastic bag a couple of days. I'll bet she really feels dirty and smelly. I'll bet that she was just stuffed in that uncomfortable sack. 

I know she'd like a sponge bath and massage. Can you girls help her?"

I could almost see them stop looking at the body in front of them, and start seeing Mrs Santiago as a person. She was someone's mother, someone's grandmother, and possible someone's great great grandmother. 

I was beginning the process of humanizing the body in front of them. Soon I would let the girls meet Mrs. Santiago's family. 

Finally, we would say goodbye and bury her. 

Thus completing the circle of life. 

As I watched, the girls placed Mrs Santiago on the table. The girl (Sally) holding her head carefully placed it on the head block. She took the extra time to fix her hair and use her hand to brush those stray hairs off her face. Mrs. Santiago looked comfortable in repose. 




The Funeral Director



My other girl (Milly) spread the modesty cloth over Mrs. Santiago. She took the extra time to make sure Mrs Santiago was modestly covered and her legs were closed. 

Next was the washing. I started the hose. While I was waiting for the water to warm (more about that later), I reminded the girls to put on rubber gloves. I let them handle the remains that first time without gloves, only to let them experience the feeling of dead flesh. But health department rules require gloves.

The girls returned all protected. I introduced them to Mrs. Santiago. "Mrs. Santiago these are your bath attendants. The brunette is Milly and the dirty blond is Sally. If there is something you need or want don't hesitate to ask either of them. Now is the water warm enough? " 

"Sally please let Mrs Santiago pick out which soap she'd like." 

I got no strange looks. 

Sally jumped up and ran to the shelf I keep the fancy soaps on. Milly helped with the selection. They would take a bar out of the container, each smell it, and then put it under Mrs. Santiago's nose. They ended up picking one of my favorite scents. 

I let the girls wash their charge. It took them almost an hour, but as they washed, they talked to Mrs. Santiago, 

I could see a bond forming. 

After they dried her off, I gave them the moisturizing cream. I explained that this would keep Mrs Santiago from drying out. They first needed to use the heavy duty cream before they could use one of the scented ones. 

They asked why.

I explained that because her heart had stopped, we needed to protect her sensitive skin from early decomposition. That was a bad choice of words. It brought my girl's world crashing down around their heads. 

Well I would have needed to bring them down before long anyway, but I hated to do it so soon.

"Girls, Mrs. Santiago is becoming uncomfortable. Let's finish her massage before we start the next step."

"Okay"

They returned to their task. 

They were sad, as if they had lost a friend. I felt bad for them, but they did need a dose of reality. While they were finishing up, I brought the two hoses from the embalming tanks over to the table. 

It was time for reality check #2.

"Now Mrs. Santiago, we will change out your fluids with ours. Ours will keep you fresh and pretty for you family and friends. They want you looking just like they remembered you. " 

That caught both Milly and Sally's attention. 

They both got back into making Mrs. Santiago look natural.

I showed them how to insert the needles and start the pump. I also demonstrated how to check for clots and blockages to the fluid transfer. We massaged Mrs Santiago while listening to a classical CD. 

It started slowly at first, but soon both girls were including Mrs. Santiago in their conversation. 

It sounded so natural, I almost expected Mrs. Santiago to answer back. Almost answer.........

It took almost three hours, but we got her embalmed. I had the girls rub some more cream into the skin. 

When they were finished I said, "Mrs. Santiago we're going to put you in the cooler so you can rest tonight. It will be a busy day tomorrow. We will need to do your hair and put your makeup on. We'll then dress you in something pretty that your family chose. After that, I'll show you the casket they chose. It is very nice."

The girls started discussing what hair and make up Mrs Santiago would look best in. 

I stopped that discussion in the bud, "Remember girls our greatest complement is when family members and/or friends say, 'She looks so natural. It's almost as if she'll wake up at any minute.' Our job is to create memories of Mrs. Santiago that her family can call on when they need them. Heaven forbid that we leave them with a bad memory. I never want anyone looking at her and saying, 'It looks as if she has clown makeup on' or, 'Her hair is terrible!' If my work produces those types of comments, I'll quit and get a job driving truck or something."

Sally asked, "Can I give her a little kiss goodnight?"

"Me too?" asked the other.

"Go ahead, but just don't tell the health department. They'll go nuts".

My girls pushed the work table into the cooler. They returned to me a little misty eyed. 

I turned off the lights and locked up. 

I poured the girls each a glass of their favorite wines and me a scotch. We toasted Mrs Santiago. The three of us sat on the couch, me in the middle and a girl on each side. They were unusually quiet that night. They were lost in their own thoughts. While they were both in their 20's, tonight was the first time they really faced life. 

Tonight they were forced to grow up. 

And they didn't like it.

After they trotted off to their respective bedrooms, I sat on the couch having a second scotch. I had some thinking to do. I knew that Mrs. Santiago was the tipping point. 

Before today the schooling the girls were taking was just that, schooling. Now they were faced with the reality of the work they wanted to perform for the next 40 years. 

It was "Shit or get off the pot" time.

Tomorrow I would find out if I still had two interns, one intern, or none. I would miss them if they were gone.

The next morning at breakfast they both were still subdued. They were still conflicted and I resolved not to help them. This was one decision each needed to make on her own. 

I left them to clean up while I got Mrs. Santiago's folder out of my office. The folder contained all the information her family had given me. 

As was my custom, I asked them to pick out a few of their favorite pictures of their mother. I knew what I'd receive, wedding pictures, family Christmases, plus pictures with her and her young children. But what was hoped for were those precious shots of her with her grand children. In these photos, she would appear most natural. 

The way everyone would remember her. 

The rest of the pictures I would place in an album for the people to browse through while waiting in line to offer their condolences. The album would represent the highlights of her life.

I took the photos down to my work shop. There I would go through them with the girls. I knew what photos I wanted to use. I hoped the girls would choose the same ones. 

The three of us spent close to two hours discussing Mrs. Santiago's makeup and hair. After all this was her last trip to the "beauty shop". We owed her our best. When we were done, we had the best of our combined three minds. 

We spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, making up Mrs Santiago. Notice, I didn't say making her beautiful. We worked to make her look natural. 

When the girls finished up her hands, I sent them off to the photo shop I used to pick up an empty album for all the photos. They came back with four identical binders. They had charmed the owner into enlarging all the smaller photos into 8.5 x 11's. 

I was proud of the girls. They had taken part ownership of the rest of Mrs. Santiago's life. 

They had also negotiated a reduced rate for any family members wishing their own copies of the albums. The photographer had managed to display his business card inside the front cover of every album.

While the girls had been gone, I applied more cream to Mrs. Santiago's body and dressed her. I didn't want the girls to see that part of the procedure. Dressing a corpse was not a pretty sight. 

There were usually still some signs of rigor. And the whole operation left a female corpse, no dignity. I also didn't want the girls to see that I usually don't bother with underwear. For some reason, women get funny about that. 

Me? It's just a matter of practically and besides the deceased won't be needing them.

I had returned Mrs. Santiago to the cooler and lowered the temperature. I wanted her to stay nice and fresh for the next two days. 

The girls asked to spend a little time with her. They said they wanted to show her the albums. I agreed.

It was close to 6:00 PM when Mrs. Santiago's son and daughter showed up asking to spend some private time with her. I sent the girls down to bring Mrs Santiago up to one of the viewing rooms. I escorted the family members to that room after turning on the lights and starting the background music. 

The girls brought the coffin into the room and placed it in the alcove designed to furnish special soft lighting on the deceased. I opened the top half of the cover and gave Mrs. Santiago a quick once over. 

While I was doing that one of the girls ran out and returned with the photo albums. They sat with the family and displayed the photos. The family shared the history of the pictures with my girls. 

There wasn't a dry eye in that room. Hell, they were even getting to me!

That night we sat in my kitchen and ate pizza. "We" the three of us and the family. I excused myself after a couple of hours. My girls explained that I needed to put Mrs. Santiago to bed, 

"Tomorrow will be a busy day for her." 

When I returned from the basement, it was a quiet group, I found, sitting around the table. The daughter asked, "Is she ok down there?"

"Yes and I left some music on for her." Damn, I hated this part.

The next morning was very busy. The first viewing was at 2:00. My crews arrived to set up the viewing room, the parking lot, and generally police the area. The flower deliveries started about 10:00. I wanted them to arrive as early as possible so we could place them. The florists wanted them as late as possible to stay fresher. 

It's a good thing the drivers got along or there might be fights.

It was 1:00pm and I was treating my crew to a lunch consisting of subs in the break room when the first family member arrived. It was one of Mrs. Santiago's daughters. You could tell the woman was distraught. She kept standing, shifting from one foot to the other, wringing her hands, and trying not to break down. 

One of my girls took her aside and they started talking.

I went downstairs and got Mrs. Santiago. 

I had just finished opening the casket when I heard, "Can they come in yet?"

"Yes, I'm ready. I just need to place the flowers on her. Can one of you stay with the daughter? I don't think she's going to make it very easily through these next few days. "

The daughter proved stronger than I thought. It seems that the daughter lost her husband and child in an accident a year ago. She had been staying with her mother to mourn and gather her strength. 

Then her mom left her too. 

I called my friend the bishop. We had become golfing buddies since my wife had died. Speaking of died, a few bottles of my good scotch went also. Catholic clergy can do some serious drinking! Anyway, I explained my suspicions to him. He agreed to have someone sit with the daughter. 

That afternoon, my receptionist hunted me down, "Someone is in your office and would like to see you and Mrs. Santiago's daughter."

"Someone is waiting in my office to see us", was all I told the daughter.

The Bishop was sitting in a chair glancing through the spare photo album. My charge took one look at him and dropped to her knees, "Forgive me Father for I have sinned".

He presented his hand so she could kiss his ring, "My child, Thomas called me and said you were having trouble accepting what fate has presented you with. This is a true test of your faith....."

I closed the door and left them together. 

The viewing went off without a hitch. One of the family members inquired after the daughter whose name turned out to be Maria. I explained that she was talking with a priest and she was okay. Hey, the Bishop is a priest, just a higher ranking one.

It was almost 5:00pm when Maria walked out of my office. She looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders, "Thank you. We had a wonderful talk."

"He's not a bad golfer either."

She smiled at my weak attempt at humor, took my hand, and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. One of my helpers was coming around the corner when she did that. I knew I'd never live that one down. 

Since all her family had left to dinner, I invited her to join the girls and me for subs in my kitchen.

It was a good meal. 

She opened up to the girls and the three of them discussed her mother. My girls talked as if they knew Mrs. Santiago all their lives. It was an interesting dynamic. They supported each other in their shared grief.

Maria thanked them for their kindness in creating the photo albums. She also complemented me on how natural her mother looked. I smiled and just pointed at the girls, passing on the credit. 

There was a women's group hug. I think I got my girls back. 

The evening viewing hours flew by. As I closed up Sally said, "I was thinking of dropping out, but watching you with Maria, I realized that this was what I wanted to do with my life. I might not be cut out to be a mortician. But watching you helping Maria with her grief. Well I just knew it was for me and I can work through the rest. "

"You and Molly did well today. If you guys need to talk, my door is always open. And besides my hugs aren't that expensive either." 

That earned me a playful punch in the arm.

The next day was Mrs. Santiago's day. Her funeral service would be at 11:00 and burial at 1:00. We would be busy today. Some donuts and coffee were placed in the family lounge and the rest put out in the employee lounge for my crew.

While I was running around taking care of all those last minute details, my receptionist hunted me down, "I have a phone call for a Maria?"

"That's one of Mrs. Santiago's daughters; she's in the family lounge."

About 15 minutes later, Maria tracked me down, "He's going to attend the burial. He has appointments he cannot change this morning or he'd be at the church too."

I must have had a blank look on my face because she added, "Bishop Cleary!."

"Oh". Was all I said. As she walked away, I resolved to watch the Bishop closer. He appeared to be moving into my business relm. 

I got busy and didn't get a chance to talk to Maria again that day.

Everything went off smoothly. I did spot the Bishop at the cemetery. He was standing with the family. The local priest who was providing over the burial service was impressed. As I was loading up the cars for the return to the funeral parlor, the priest whispered in my ear, "I didn't know the family knew his eminence."

"They don't. I do. He attended as a favor to me. The daughter needed extra support." I then went on to explain the daughter's series of tragedies. 

When I got done, he remarked, "You couldn't have made a better choice. He joined the priesthood late, right after his wife and three children died in a house fire. He was out of town at the time or he would have joined them. He never went back to his house. 

He joined the seminary the next day."

"He and I play golf together. He never mentioned it to me."

"He never talks about it. I don't even think he talks about it with God."

The Bishop went up a couple of more notches in my esteem for him.

__________

It another year went flying by. We had that final funeral, the one that forced the girls make their decisions. Sally chose another career. She no longer wanted anything to with the funeral business.

Maria chose to be only a mortician. She knew she couldn't handle the pressure interacting with the deceased family. She built a wall around her and the corpse. 

She would always be a pretty good mortician, but never a great one.

I guess it was that last intake we had that did it. 

The deceased was a small child. It was a four year old little girl who just died in her sleep. No one expected her death.

It was a very sad funeral. 

Even the weather was nasty, it was cold, windy, and occasionally raining the day we buried her. It was as if God was expressing his displeasure at the reason for our gathering.

I openly cried when that little casket was carried past me. It was times like this I really doubted my religion. 

The young mother collapsed at the cemetery. It was as if when she saw that hole in the ground everything went out of her. Angelo was near enough to catch her. Angelo and her husband carried her to someone's car and she was driven away. Angelo put an arm around the young father and whispered in his ear. The boy straightend up and the two of them took their positions in the procession. 

Later I learned that Angelo had told the dad to be strong for his child. She would be scared and needed his guidance and strength as she started on her journey to a better place.

It was that night Sally and Molly made there respective decisions.

When it came time for the girls to leave, I had a going away party for them. There were enough individuals the girls had interacted with that I was forced to rent the party room at a local hotel. With some arm twisting by Angelo, I sprung for a sit down dinner, band, and open bar. 

Then the bastard invited close to 200 people! With spouse's and/or dates!

He arranged for a raised head table and forced me to be Master of Ceremonies. Guess who got to make a speech and play host. The only thing I can point to as beneficial was when the local television news showed up. 

I could write some of it off as advertising (I hoped).

All and all it was a pretty good night.

It took the girls another two days to pack up and leave. After almost four years, the residential section of my funeral home was empty and quiet. 

Damn, I was going to miss them. 

I wish I had a client to work on to take my mind off the loneliness. But I didn't so I headed for the scotch I kept in my office.

As I poured a stiff shot over some ice in a glass, I heard the knocking on the funeral homes front door. I never even considered ignoring whoever was there. Someone was in distress and needed my professional help. 

I called out, "Coming", and headed to open the door.

Well imagine my surprise when I saw Maria standing there with a great big roasting pan. She thrust it in my hands, 

"Here hold this. I have more stuff in the car."

I stood there like an idiot, holding the roaster in my hands and my foot keeping the door open. "What's all this?" I asked.

"Bishop Cleary called and said you need a friend and a good meal. So here I am."

We managed to get the food into the residential section and placed in ovens, or microwaves, or whatever was appropriate. 

She was a real clown. She entertained me with her silly antics and chatter. By the time we finished desert and cleanup, my dark mood was lifted.

She dragged me into the visitor's lounge with our wine. At first I balked, most women get creeped out being entertained in my "business" spaces. 

When she noticed my hesitation, she said, "I've spent enough time in funeral homes lately that it doesn't bother me anymore."

We spent until almost 2:00 am just talking and catching up one our respective lives. 

The next thing I knew, we were being awakened by my receptionist. It was 9:00 am. 

We had fallen asleep on the couch. 

Well my clerk loved it. She was a 60 year old matchmaker. This was right up her alley. She sent us both into the residential section to "straighten up" while she picked up the clutter.

I showed Maria to the residential section and into one of the guest rooms. I went to the master bedroom, stripped, and climbed in the shower. I was about 25% of the way through my shower when I felt a cool draft caused by someone opening the bathroom door. 

"Thomas, you have it way too steamy in here. My hair will be ruined. "

I started to compose a smart answer when the shower door behind me opened and Marie wrapped her arms around me from behind.

My smart ass remark flew right out the window. 

I felt those soft breasts press into my back. I got an erection so quickly that the force of it popping up almost flipped me over. A little hand reached down and started rubbing up and down on it with some soap.




The Funeral Director



"Not bad! I think I'd like to feel this in me."

Well she didn't get her wish right away. It had been at least a year since I had been with a woman. Let's face it when your best friend is a Catholic Bishop, you just don't go out cruising bars trying to pick up chicks.

Why am I telling you all this? Simple, I didn't even get turned all the way around before I was all done. 

"It's been a while I see." She said looking at the mess on her hip and stomach.

"Over a year," I replied.

"Don't worry we have all day." Then she kissed me. 

We eventually started turning into prunes and adjourned to my bed. We spent the rest of the day and all night there. 

The next morning we went to breakfast at my favorite diner. We took a little harassment from some of my drivers who happened to be eating there. I knew all my employees would know by lunch. 

We drove to Maria's house. She packed a couple of suitcases and was soon ensconced in my bedroom. We tried to baptize every horizontal surface in the residential section. 

We had a lot of time to make up for.

Maria was 36 to my 46. If I put my arms around her, she fit perfectly. If I started a sentence, she could finish it for me. We were that much in sync.

We were together six months when we decided to make it permanent. She sold her house and moved in completely with me. 

Bet you thought we got married. 

Well that would come later. You see we didn't want little Tommy jr. to grow up without a last name.

It was another four months before we tied the knot. 

Maria was as big as a house then she walked (wattled) down the aisle. She was so big that I was worried she might deliver before the, "I do". 

Our friend the Bishop teased us at the alter, "I have a baptismal font set up in the rear of the church. Just in case." 

He married us anyway.

Angelo was my best man and Maria's brother gave her away. It was a great wedding. We honeymooned in Hawaii for a month. 

I had Milly on call to fill in for me if needed.

The only downer to our trip was a phone call from one of my guys. Angelo and Mr. DiTucci were killed when their car was struck by a hit and run driver. 

Because of the resulting fire my services were not needed.

Tommy Jr was born one day after our wheels touched down at home. He was named Thomas Angelo Gino Steel. 

We didn't need to use the Jr. unless his mother was mad at him. 

We're trying for a sibling for him. 

To be explicit I think I hear Maria calling me now.