EPTDouble doors, scuffed and dented at waist height, thump-sigh open.
"Oh my god, you work here?"
"Shh! Yes, this is the place." My sneakers squeak on clean linoleum.
"Sorry. Doesn't it, like, freak you out though?"
"Nah, not really. Once you get used to it, it's kinda peaceful, you know? No people, no hassle, just... peaceful." Click: flourescents tick, wink and settle.
"Wow. You're pretty weird."
"Weird?"
"Oh, in a nice way, y'know? Interesting. Hey, what's that?" She stares, rapt, at the hulking device, all brushed metal and hungry maw.
"That's the oven. C'mon, I'll show you."
"Really? God, I never imagined - I mean, my grandmother was cremated, and you know how they do all the music, and the curtains and stuff? I guess I always thought that sort of carried on behind the scenes. Like a Peter Cushing movie. This is like... ER crossed with the cookery channel." A little giggle.
"It's pretty prosaic, isn't it?" My word of the moment.
"Prosaic, yeah, I like that. Where'd you learn a word like that?"
"Oh, I read a lot, mostly. You watch Peter Cushing movies too?" We have so much in common, she and I.
"Oh yeah, I love all that stuff. It's like, it shouldn't be scary because it's so fake, but it still is, right? Dracul, lord of the Night and deflowerer of Young Ladies." Voice lowering comically.
"Right, like how you can see all those night-scenes of galloping stagecoaches were shot in daylight, and they just turned the brightness down."
"Yes! I always thought that too! I still hid behind a cushion. Don't laugh!"
"Sorry, sorry, it's just that I did the same thing. Mom and dad were in bed, and I'd sneak down..." Shut up, shut up...
"What's this table thing?" She touches it, feels the slick, stainless surface. "Jeez, it's really cold."
"It's where we prepare ... well, the bodies. For viewing. Or not, sometimes."
"Eww. Are some of them bad?"
"Very. There was a guy last week..."
"Don't! Don't tell me! I swear, I'll never talk to you again if you gross me out." But oh, how her eyes sparkle!
"Okay, okay, I won't. Really, I promise."
"Hmm. You'd better not. Hey, have you ever brought a girl down here before?"
"A couple of times." I avoid her gaze.
"Really? Damn, and there I was thinking I was special or something. Y'know, privy to your darkest secrets, as Peter might say."
"You are. Special, I mean." I am so lame.
"Yeah, I bet you tell all the girls that."
"No, really, you are. When I first saw you... I... uh..." I hate myself.
"Hey, hey, come on, don't be embarrassed. I'm sorry I teased you. Really. It's nice you think I'm special."
"Sorry, I'm not that good at this."
"Don't worry, you're doing fine. You got me down here, right?"
"I suppose."
"Look, it's ok to be nervous. It's cute, actually."
"Now you're shitting me."
"No, no, I'm not. There's only so much macho a girl can take, believe me. There's nothing wrong with being vulnerable."
"Oh yeah, all the girls just love vulnerable little me."
"Vulnerable is cute. Self-pitying isn't."
"Sorry." Damn.
"Ok then. Hey, did you ever... I mean... I shouldn't ask, but those other girls, did you, like, make out down here?"
"Well... a little." My heart trembles; a delicious shudder.
"You did? How much is a little?"
"Just first base stuff. I was really nervous about getting caught."
"I bet! Does your boss check up on you a lot?"
"He used to, when I first started, but it's not so bad now. I get the place pretty much to myself." We are alone.
"Cool... so... he wouldn't interrupt is if we made out?"
"Uh, no, I guess not." My stomach flips with dizzy glee, sees the coaster's first plummet in the curve of her lips, the curve of her hips.
"You don't sound so sure; do you want to?"
"Oh god, yes. I mean, yes."
"Really? 'Cos I have to tell you, I don't really do that 'first base stuff'."
"You don't?" Blood rushes in my ears, my passing fears too fast to distract.
"Nah. That's for kids, don't you think? I mean, it's just so... nothing. You get all revved up, and go nowhere. No, if I'm in the mood, I want to do something about it."
"And... you're in the mood? Why are you laughing?"
"It's just too weird! This - it's like, the last place I'd expect to get horny. It's just so quiet, like we're the last people on earth. I suppose I'd have to be in the mood then, huh? Jeez, there must be something wrong with me."
"I don't think there's anything wrong with you. I think you're perfect." Lame? I don't care. It feels right. She's right. I'm right: perfect.
"Perfect? I like that. Nobody's ever called me that before. C'mere."
"..."
"Mmm. You kiss pretty good for a skinny guy, you know. Hey, what's this: you revved up already? Yes, you certainly are."
Revving? I'm screaming, all horses unleashed, a redline roar sprinting for the brink.
"So whuh... what do you want to do about it?"
"Wow, aren't we brave all of a sudden? Well now, let's see what we're dealing with first..."
"Oh jeez..." Zip fly slowly rips - I stand bold in cold freedom.
"Hmm. Not bad. Not bad at all. Why don't I go see what he's got to say for himself?"
"...You're gonna...?" This is it!
"Don't worry - I don't bite." Just time for one breath, then one word, one syllable swallows all: in.
"...Oh...oh jeez...Ah! That's...oh...mmm, ah, ah, oh...god... oh I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just couldn't..." Hot, trickling, elated shame.
"It's ok, it's ok, shhh... it's ok. Really."
"I'm sorry... you're just so..."
"Shhh, it's ok. It's fine. Kinda flattering really. I must have a real knack, right?"
Thump-sigh.
"Danny?"
"Oh shit!"
"Who's that?"
"Shit! It's my boss, oh fuck I'm fucked!"
"Danny? Who are you talking to?"
"Uh, nobody, Mr Frobisher." Zip stuck; shit, fuck...
"I thought I heard you talking." Squeak, squeak, closer.
"It was the radio, sir. I, uh, just turned it off." There! Safe in damp cloth. Scalp tingles with close shave.
"Oh? I thought you youngsters were more into 'heavy metal' than talkies nowadays. Anyway, how are you getting along?"
"Fine, sir, just fine."
"Well, let's have a look then."
"Uh..."
"Oh, my word!"
"Mr. Frobisher..."
"Excellent work, Danny! Her family will be so pleased ... well, not exactly... you understand. When she was brought in I was sure we'd be recommending a closed casket. Quite remarkable. But don't forget to sew up the mouth, yes? Ah, Danny, isn't it a shame when they're taken so young?"
