Dead End Career

I volunteered at the hospital every week for over a year. I had taken several medical classes in the course of my studies, so I was a quick study to the needs of the patients. I pretty much did the dirty work, but it was fulfilling to my lonely life. I had broken up with my lover, John, nearly a year earlier, and had been unable to move on and date again. I filled my life with my work, and tried to forget.

Occasionally I got to talk to some of the patients. I always enjoyed listening to people's stories. I would get to know them, but before long they were gone. I would move on to another, and try to make their stay better.

The first time my volunteer work touched my professional life, I went out for a drink. I sat alone at the bar, downing one beer after another. I was trying to get the image of the kind old woman out of my mind. A woman that I had talked to at the hospital, and had taken a turn for the worse. She was now on a slab in my mortuary, and I was responsible for her preparation.

"I lived in Italy for several years. It was so beautiful. I loved the land, and the people. The men were wonderful." Mrs. Porter told me about her travels as I cleaned her room. I listened closely, enjoying the recollections.

"Where else did you live," I asked.

"Oh, I lived in India, and the Philippines, but Italy was my favorite." She would go on telling me as I worked. I would take my break while I was there so that I got to listen longer. Soon I would have to go to the next room, but I would see her before I left for the day. The last I heard, she was going home, and was doing a little better.

I woke up the next morning wishing I was anywhere else. I tried to think of a way to get out of embalming her, but I could hear the words of my teacher in my ears. "Emotion is left at the door." It would be unprofessional for me to turn down the job. I remember looking down at her kind face, and wishing I could hear her stories again. I never heard about India.

I had the same experience two more times. I eventually stopped volunteering. It had become too painful. I feared I would no longer be able to continue my job. I was drinking more than I had before, and I had heard how easily morticians become addicts. I gave up volunteer work and beer on the same day.

I was sitting in my office doing some paper work, when my assistant tapped on the door. I moved to the door and took the clipboard from him and signed the release. He took it back to the delivery person, and I moved into the prep room to look at the body. I pulled back the sheet and gasped. Tears stung my eyes and my throat clenched.

"John," I said to the room, that was empty except for me and the lifeless body of my former lover.

"So, what do you want to do tonight," John asked.

"Oh, I can think of a few things," I returned with a fiendish grin. I cuddled up next to him on the sofa and kissed him tenderly. We sat watching an old movie, and munching on popcorn. He was so warm and so loving. We loved each other, but all too soon it was over.

I reached out and touched his arm. He was so cold. He was no different from any other body, but then again he was different. He seemed colder, from my warm memories. I looked for his chart and found his cause of death. He died from blunt force trauma to the skull. I gasped and I felt the need to throw up. I slowly moved to the table and reached out to his head. I gently turned his head until I saw the wound that ended his life. I felt lightheaded, and the room went dark.

"Are you ok Mark," I heard in the darkness. I opened my eyes and looked up at my assistant. He pulled at my shoulders and tried to help me to my feet.

"I'll be fine, Tom," I said as I struggled to right myself.

"You don't seem fine," Tom returned.

"I probably just didn't have enough lunch. I will go grab a glass of juice and be right back." I walked upstairs, trying not to look back at the body. I found my way into the kitchen, and bypassed the fridge for the freezer. I pulled a bottle of Absolut from the back and put it on the table. I found a shot glass and sat at the kitchen table.

"So, what is your name," a young guy asked as I was downing a shot of vodka.

"Mark," I said, and motioned for him to sit down. "And what is yours," I asked, ordering another vodka.

"John," he said, smiling. He was twenty-two, I soon found out, and quite handsome. He was 5'8" as I remember, and slim. He was not the butchest guy in the world, but I liked him immediately. His green eyes sparkled as he smiled at me. I melted in my seat and I was his.

I downed several shots and walked upstairs to my bedroom. I pulled a picture album from a shelf and opened it to the trip to Atlanta I took with John. We smiled together, holding hands in most of the pictures. I loved him so much, and he loved me. We were so happy, but things change. I sat on the bed as felt the sobs rise from my throat. I dropped the album to the floor and laid back on the bed. I curled up and cried until I fell asleep.

"I'm sorry Mark, but I'm not happy. I think perhaps we should take a break." I looked into John's eyes as he spoke. I could see tears forming, and I felt mine come. He broke his gaze and looked out the window. I sat back in my chair and looked at the floor. John picked up his bag and walked away. I didn't cry until I heard the door shut. I cried and cursed and broke anything I could find. He never came back, and I never saw him again. His sister came for the rest of his things.

I woke up about an hour later. It was late afternoon and I felt ill from the vodka. I washed my face and went back downstairs. I looked around the parlor, happy I had no showings or funerals that day. I looked at the door to the basement stairs and took a deep breath. I moved downstairs and found Tom busy with another body. I saw that John was missing and figured he was in the cooler.

"Do you know what happened to Jo... The body that was delivered earlier?" Tom stopped his work and looked up at me. He looked a bit uncomfortable, but lifted his face mask and pulled off his gloves. He walked around the table and looked at me sadly.

"Yeah, actually. He was beaten outside of a bar. It was a gay bar. He was found in the alley, and they have no suspects." I winced and fought back the tears that stung my eyes. My eyes were already puffy and red. "Did you know him," he asked as I moved for the stairs. I just ran up the stairs and fell onto the sofa.

"You are beautiful," John said as I stood nude before him. I blushed and looked away. He pulled me against his bare chest and kissed me hard on the lips. I opened my mouth and his tongue snaked between my lips. He pushed me on the bed and laid on top of me. Our hands explored each other, and our hard dicks rubbed together.

I reached down and pulled on his dick. I rolled over on top of him and straddled his torso. I positioned his cock at my hole and moved back. I felt him part me and enter me slowly. I pushed down and savored the feeling of being filled. I slowly lifted myself and then lowered again. I moved faster and faster as our bodies began to sweat.

John looked up into my eyes with his lips barely parted. He began to moan and I knew he was close. I moved even faster until he stiffened and groaned loudly. He filled me with his cream and then melted into the bed. I collapsed onto him and we laid together in each other's arms.

I sat up in bed covered in sweat. I looked at the clock and saw it was nearly seven. I pulled myself from the bed and into the bathroom. I relieved my bladder and climbed into the shower. I was all cried out and now I had a job to do. I dressed and went downstairs to work.

I prepared John's body and dressed him in the clothes provided. I never met his family before, because he had been in the closet. I was able to finally meet his mom and dad. I avoided his sister, and I don't think she remembered me. I watched from the back of the room as a preacher who had never met John, told everyone how nice he was.

A tall fellow sitting in the back of the room cried into his handkerchief. I realized it was John's lover and moved to comfort him. I smiled and looked into his eyes. He looked deep into my eyes and recognized the understanding. He cried on my shoulder until the funeral was over. He left quickly after giving me one last hug.

I went upstairs to my room and took off my black suit and comforting, blue tie. I opened the window and tossed my suit into the back yard. I sat down at my desk and wrote out a large check, and wrote Tom's name on it. He was young and would be able to find another job easily. The door's of my mortuary closed that night, and never opened again.

Become a Patreon to support Taletopia!

written by danny