by K. L. Hiers
Altering clothing was a common part of the job. Families would often bring things their loved ones hadn’t worn in decades, and it took a bit of magic to make it work.
That, and a pair of scissors.
Purists like Gerald and Mr. Crosby detested cutting clothes for the deceased, and Tom did try to avoid it when he could. Considering how many hours of work he’d put into Mrs. Winslow’s face and that her jacket was at least two sizes too small, he felt pretty justified to go ahead and cut it.
Just as he was slipping Mrs. Winslow’s shoes on to complete her outfit, the prep room door beeped and in walked Aaron.
“Hey, I’m sorry to drop poo guy on you,” Aaron began, pausing to stifle a yawn and waving a piece of paper, “but Mr. Crosby got off the phone with his family, and they want to see him when they come in for their arrangement. Basic prep, no embalming.”
“What time?”
“Two o’clock.”
“And the Winslows are still coming at three, right?”
“Yeah. We’ll have her in the main viewing room, and Mr. Powell can hang out in the small one.”
“Well, crap, that’s where I was gonna put Mr. Dresser.”
“We don’t really need to move him until the Chevra Kaddish come in tonight, right?”
“I guess not.” Tom sighed. “Okay, well, I still gotta casket Mrs. Winslow here, Miss Edie is coming in to do her hair, I need to prep Mr. Powell, and uh…”
Confront Cypress while smelling amazing, get the money back, have a light snack, then pay Junior and make it I’m absolutely done working for him.
Still on track, good.
“I’ll help you casket her,” Aaron offered.
“Thanks, I would really appreciate—”
“But I’m not helping you with Mr. Poopoo Powell. I saw enough of him this morning.”
“Totally fair.”
Together, they gloved up and gently placed Mrs. Winslow in her casket. Tom put a few finishing touches on her makeup, freshened up her lipstick, and made sure every seam of her pantsuit was immaculate. No one would ever be able to tell the jacket was cut, and he was pretty pleased about that.
Even though Aaron had said he wouldn’t assist with Mr. Powell, he stayed in the prep room to chat after Tom had retrieved his body from the walk-in cooler.
“Any idea what the other families want to do?” Tom asked, moving Mr. Powell up onto the porcelain embalming table. Because of the mess, he was sealed inside a body bag, but Tom could still smell the poop waiting for him within.
“The Huns are undecided. They’re pretty upset since it was such an unexpected death,” Aaron replied, leaning against the counter. “Poor ol’ grandma apparently dropped dead in her kitchen getting ready for dinner. The Lowery family is doing cremation. Gerald actually waited on them last year when the Dad died.”
“Gotcha.” Tom got suited up in his embalming gear and began to remove Mr. Powell from the body bag by carefully tucking and rolling the plastic until he could pull it free.
He took his time, being mindful of all the fecal matter, and shoved the balled-up bag into the biohazard trash. Mr. Powell was still dressed, but his clothing was totally soiled. Tom noted that Bosco or Scott must have tried to pull his pants back up, and he was missing a slipper.
“Where’s the other shoe?”
“Back in his bathroom in a pile of poo.”
“Gotcha.” Tom started to get Mr. Powell undressed. “You feeling any better?”
“I might start snorting coffee, but heh, I’ll make it.” Aaron shrugged. “Bosco is lucky I hadn’t been drinking, or this poor dude may have stayed stuck in the bathroom.”
“Yeah.” Tom packed the dirty clothes away in a plastic bag, hoping the family wouldn’t want them back. “Wait, why didn’t they try to, I don’t know, remove the pins from the hinges?”
“Family didn’t want them to mess up the door.” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Guy is a widow, only has two sons, and they were more worried about the damn door than their own father being dead in a pile of his own crap.”
“They sound charming.” Tom made a face and turned on the water hose so he could start bathing Mr. Powell and wash away the mess.
“Oh, they were great. They were already talking about how much they could get for selling the house.”
“Death really has a way of bringing out the best in people,” Tom muttered. “Your kids sound like dickheads, Mr. P.”
“You need help getting him on a table?” Aaron asked, yawning loudly.
“No, I got him.” Tom glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Dresser family is gonna be here in thirty minutes, right?”
“Shit. Yeah.” Aaron rubbed his face. “They had started a preneed, just never funded it. Shouldn’t take long to sort it all out. I’ll bring the clothes back if they have them.”
“And the casket?”
“Yeah, they didn’t get that far. I think that’s the only part they didn’t do. I mean and pay for it.”
Tom thought of Mrs. Dresser’s screams again, and he frowned. “Probably didn’t want to accept their son was actually dying, so they kept putting it off.”
“Maybe.” Aaron opened the prep room door. “I’ll be sure to look out for Mrs. Dresser’s right hook, just in case.”
“Very funny,” Tom grumbled.
“Later.”
Once Aaron left, Tom finished washing Mr. Powell, rinsed him, and dried him off. The strong smell of disinfectant soap was a big improvement over all the poop. He put a diaper and a hospital gown on him, then pulled him over onto a dressing table to finish getting him ready for his viewing.
After he set his features, he put a pillow beneath his head, a thick blanket over top of him, and attached a special skirt that ran along the edge of the table to hide the wheels beneath.
As Tom washed off the embalming table, he decided this would be the perfect time to go talk to Cypress. He still couldn’t move Mrs. Winslow since her hair wasn’t done yet, and though Mr. Powell was ready, he wasn’t due up for a few more hours.
He threw his soiled personal protection equipment in the trash and returned to the office to find Earl. “Hey, I’m gonna take an early lunch. Is that okay?”
“Sure thing, Tommy.” Earl was on the phone but covered up the receiver to speak to him. “We all caught up back there?”
“Mr. Powell is ready to go, Mrs. Winslow just needs her hair done.”
“Damn, Miss Edie isn’t here yet?” Earl made a face and looked at the clock. “I’ll call her, make sure she hasn’t forgotten about us. Go on, go eat. We’ll hold down the fort.”
“Thanks.” Tom resisted the urge to outright sprint through the funeral home, his heart pounding and keys in hand as he hurried back outside to his car.
Confront Cypress while smelling amazing. Yup. He could totally do this.
Doyle’s Flowers wasn’t too far from the funeral home, only a few blocks away in the historic part of downtown in fact, and Tom was there in no time at all. It was housed inside the first floor of an elegant three-story Victorian home with the name delicately hand-painted across a front bay window.
Most of the old homes in this area had been converted into offices and retail spaces, though Tom didn’t see any signs for what the rest of the house hosted.
He parked right out on the curb and suddenly froze up, a streak of panic climbing up his spine.
What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t walk right in there and demand Cypress give him the money back, could he? What if Cypress said no? What if he actually made good on his threat to call the cops?
He thought about potentially running into Junior later this afternoon and how angry he would be if he didn’t have the money.
His fear outweighed his anxiety, and he took a deep breath before getting out of the car. He marched up to the front door of the flower shop, a loud bell clanging as he stepped up inside.
The shop was small, full of shelves packed with hand-made gifts and several fresh arrangements on
display. Tom was surprised by how much the smell reminded him of the funeral home; clean, sharp, but with a definite underlying perfume of old, rotten flowers.
There was a long counter with a register blocking access to the rear of the shop, and it was there that Cypress appeared, drawn by the ringing bell. He was wearing a snug t-shirt that made his arms look fantastic, fitted jeans, and a green apron.
“Hey, Tom,” Cypress said, smiling brightly. “Huh. Wasn’t expecting to see you until I swung by to make my deliveries. What’s up?”
“I know you took the money, and I need you to give it back.” Tom kept his voice calm and his head high. “Right now.”
“Oh, did I?” Cypress’s smile grew. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” Tom gritted his teeth. “And I’m not leaving until you give it back.”
“Don’t you wanna know why I took it?” Cypress asked, casually walking from around the counter toward Tom.
“I don’t know. The same reason anyone takes money?” Tom glared up at Cypress as he got closer. The urge to pull him into a kiss was almost impossible to resist. “To spend it on something dumb? Maybe that’s how you get your kicks?”
“Mmm, I think you already know how I like to get ‘my kicks,’” Cypress teased, breezing right by Tom to the front door.
“I’m not going anywhere until you give me the money,” Tom warned, thinking Cypress was about to try and kick him out. “If you really wanna talk about it, we can, but I can’t tell you everything. I’m sorry, I can’t, but you’ve got to understand I have to get that money back.”
Cypress flipped the sign on the front door from open to closed, turning back to face Tom with a wicked smile. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna talk, don’t worry about that. The very first thing up for discussion is gonna be how I’m going to decide to punish you.”
“Punish me?” Tom’s cock twitched, and his skin suddenly felt flush. “For, for what?”
“For being such a very, very bad boy.”
“A bad boy?” Tom scoffed.
“For disrupting my place of business,” Cypress said, clasping his arms behind his back and slowly stalking into Tom’s space.
“How about a punishment for you since you stole all my money?” Tom demanded, backing away before Cypress could get too close.
“Mm, you mean that money you got by illegally selling formaldehyde?”
“Yes, that money.” Tom huffed. “I was gonna call you, but I didn’t even get your number last night because I was all come-stupid—”
“Come-stupid?” Cypress laughed.
“You know. Because of what we did. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Mmm, come-stupid. Well, I haven’t heard that one before.” Cypress kept advancing until Tom was forced to back up against the counter. “I like it.”
“Y-yeah?” Tom braced himself on the edge of the counter, completely trapped as Cypress pressed close. He felt so small with Cypress looming over him, and it was hard for him to pinpoint exactly why.
Cypress was at least a head taller than he was and twice as broad, his entire body basically one giant thick hunk of muscle, but it was more than their physical size. After all, Tom had been with bigger guys before, and not one had ever made him feel like this.
It was something else, something intangible, and it made Tom want to drop right back down to his knees again.
“Guess I was feeling a little come-stupid myself.” Cypress winked. “Because I forgot, too.”
Everything Tom had planned to say right now and the fear he’d tried to wrangle to his advantage were all melting away as he got lost in Cypress’s eyes. They were the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen. The sheer power he felt from Cypress was coming off his body in thick waves, drowning out any rational thought until all he could think about was how much he wanted to taste him again.
“I like you,” Cypress suddenly confessed. “You keep managing to surprise me.”
“I… I do?”
“You act so shy and weak, but you were willing to suck my dick to buy my silence.”
“Hey! I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t do that under normal circumstances—!” Tom tried to argue, gasping as Cypress’s strong hand grabbed his chin.
“I steal your money,” Cypress went on, leaning in to teasingly brush their lips together, “and you come marching right up in here, demanding it back and looking for a fight.”
“I wasn’t… I mean…” Tom blinked rapidly. “I have to get it back. You don’t understand.”
“What I understand is when you’re put in stressful situations, you have the power to surprise even yourself with what you’re capable of,” Cypress cut in, his posture relaxing as he leaned down to kiss Tom.
Unable to resist, Tom gave in and kissed back, sagging against the counter. Cypress felt so very good, so strong, and he had missed those hot lips. He was having trouble fully understanding what Cypress was trying to tell him, but for now, he was going with it.
The power to surprise himself? Really? What power? He didn’t even have the power to get himself out of the mess he was stuck in with Junior right now.
“You just wanted to see what I would do?” Tom asked when they parted, grabbing onto Cypress’s thick arms to steady himself from the rush. “That’s why you took it?”
“In part,” Cypress replied honestly. “Also, to figure out how much shit you’re in.”
“It’s a lot.” Tom grimaced.
“I figured. That’s not a small chunk of change, you know. You wanna talk yet?”
“This is going to be the last time,” Tom said, unsure who he was trying to convince, himself or Cypress. “After I pay him that money today—”
“Him who?”
“Doesn’t matter. After I pay him, I’m telling him that I’m done.”
“Oh, so I’m giving it back to you?”
“Yes!” Tom snapped. “I have to. If I don’t, I’m so totally fucked.”
“You’re wearing a new cologne,” Cypress suddenly noted, smiling wide.
“Yes, but that’s not important right this second.”
“It suits you.”
“Thank you.” Though Tom was secretly pleased Cypress had taken notice, he had to stay on task. “Now, listen to me. That money—”
“Have you ever been spanked, Tom?”
“What?” Tom squirmed at the question, and he could feel heat stirring between his legs. “I mean, sure, I guess? Yeah. Can we focus?”
“That sounds like a ‘no.’”
“But I said yes.”
“I’m not talking about someone giving you a little love tap while you’re doing it doggy,” Cypress said, flashing a big grin. “I’m talking about you getting bent over someone’s knee and fuckin’ spanked.”
Tom could feel his face prickling with a vivid blush, finding it all too easy to imagine Cypress doing exactly what he’d just described. “Then no… I… I haven’t.”
“Would you like to?”
Tom’s guts lurched like he’d taken a big dip on a roller coaster, and he tried to think clearly. He was supposed to be getting the money and going right back to the funeral home, maybe getting Cypress’s phone number.
The only thing consuming his thoughts now was Cypress getting his hands on him, and he could not explain why it was so exciting. He should say no. This was too fast, too crazy, and yet…
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
It wasn’t a refusal or acceptance, but at least it was honest. His cock was getting hard and had nowhere to hide in his thin scrubs, and Tom groaned when Cypress ground their hips together.
“All you have to do is tell me to stop,” Cypress said, his voice a rolling purr. “If you don’t like it or if it hurts—”
“Wait, you’re going to… right here?” Tom gasped.
“That’s the plan.”
This was almost as bad as screwing around in the hallway. The risk of someone walking in on them was somewhat minimized with the closed sign up, and Tom
couldn’t fathom why that seemed disappointing.
“What about the money?” Tom demanded, trying to keep himself from sinking down too quickly.
“Let’s see how you take your punishment first,” Cypress said. “Then we’ll talk about the money.” He tilted his head, kissing down Tom’s cheek to his neck. “You’ve been a very bad boy, Tom.”
“Yes,” Tom hissed, the sensation of Cypress’s hot breath making him shiver and his hips buck. “I know I am.”
“You wanna stop, don’t you? You wanna be a good boy, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Tom replied urgently.
“Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, it’s not worth ruining the rest of your life over.” Cypress began to slide a hand down the front of Tom’s stomach, the tips of his fingers teasing along the stiff shaft of his cock.
“I know. I know,” Tom pleaded. “I wanna stop. I don’t… I don’t wanna do it anymore.”
“Then stop,” Cypress said, boldly squeezing Tom’s cock. “Be a good boy for me and make this the very last time.”
“Yes.” Tom moaned quietly, rocking up into Cypress’s hand. Yes, a good boy. That’s all he wanted to be. He didn’t want to lie or steal anymore, he just wanted to be good.
“Yes, what?” Cypress prompted.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy,” Cypress said, pressing a light kiss to Tom’s lips. “Now, turn around and drop your pants. Let me see that cute little ass.”
Tom’s hands were weirdly numb as he reached down to untie the drawstring of his scrubs. No one had ever called his ass ‘cute’ before. He waited until he’d turned around to drop them, the light fabric pooling down around his ankles. He started to pull his underwear down, but Cypress gently nudged his hand.
“Not yet,” Cypress said, palming Tom’s round ass through his boxers. “We’re gonna start nice and slow with these still on. Okay?”
“Okay.” Tom braced himself against the counter, hands clamped down, and every muscle was wound up tight enough to snap.
“Mmm, relax.” Cypress draped himself over Tom’s back, his beard tickling Tom’s neck as he whispered in his ear, “Come on. Take a deep breath for me. If you’re tense, it’ll hurt.”