The Mortuary

She looked across the damp, dark, death filled room at Clyde.

A single bulb hung from the ceiling, with nothing but a string to turn it on and off. It flickered often, which scared Clyde, but made her tingle with excitement.

He worried it was the lost souls; she hoped that it was. She wanted them to watch, as she continued on in every way. The night, the death, the escape from reality.

Under the single, dim, flickering light she saw his skin glisten and a body through a sweat soaked shirt, that clung to him in a way that almost made her jealous. She saw those deep, beautiful, eyes look at her, as he gave a slight smile.

He drove her mad.

She was done.

She walked slowly towards Clyde and his heart began to race with anticipation. He had waited so long for this. She sat in his lap, legs straddled on either side of him. She placed a hand on the side of his face, turned it towards her. Slowly and gently, she pressed her lips against his. She tried to back away, unsure if she had just made a mistake, but he pulled her in closer, and kissed her deeper.

There, in the darkest pits of the old, abandoned, musty building, they connected completely and fully for the first time.

They were both excited.

They were both fulfilled in ways they had never known.

But neither knew what to do next.

Clyde stood up too quickly; his head was spinning. He had to sit back down. She giggled behind her hand, before reaching out to him. He saw the blood on her arm, from the work she had done for him, for herself, and it just drove his desire for her deeper.

When he stood back up, he took her back in his arms. He pulled her in closer, and he pulled himself in deeper, as he grabbed her leg with the garter and the knife.

Before they knew it, the morning sun had broken through the cracked window, in the furthest, highest corner.

They had gone too far. Clyde didn’t know how he would meet with the Mortician in two hours.

What had he done?

She started to clean the room from the night before.

Clyde turned to find that the body they had worked, but it was gone.

He needed all evidence of being here gone.

Where is it?

No blood, no trace of its existence lingered behind.

He had to go. The Mortician was expecting him; not the body.

********

As he arrived at the Mortician's office, soaked in sweat, oils, and smelling partially like himself, but mostly like her, and the night they consumed- he realized he had forgotten his new suit jacket on the chair.

Out in the open. Evidence. Would she see it?

He knew the Mortician would recognize the scent on him, but hoped the others were stronger. He hoped he wouldn’t know who had been bringing his wife the one thing he didn’t want her to have.

The Green Fairy.

He would have to go back for the jacket later. There was no time now. She would take care of it. She always good at cleaning up after them.

********

She picked up a glass and saw that there was plenty of drink left in it. She finished it off; never wasting alcohol- especially right now. The room began to spin. All she focused on was Clyde’s jacket, on the chair, in the corner.

Evidence left behind.

They were always so good at not leaving evidence behind.

As she walked towards it, the whole world began to spin, then turned dark, and she lost herself.

********

In that exact moment, the same happened to Clyde.

The Mortician walked in the room.