The split in his lip was small but swollen. For such a little cut, it hurt like hell. He experimentally ran his tongue over it to feel it burn, glancing at himself in the mirror.
Do I look like a good boy…?
Cypress was there in his thoughts again, and Tom could recreate his sweet scent perfectly in his mind. He remembered how strong Cypress’s hand had felt, and it was so easy to imagine those powerful arms wrapped around him, pinning him down…
He didn’t want to have to think about Mrs. Dresser’s screams, he didn’t want to worry about whether or not young Brady had ever been in love, he didn’t want to hurt, he didn’t want to worry about selling the damn embalming fluid tonight, he… he wanted someone to take over and make it all go away.
No, not justsomeone.
He wanted Cypress.
Those brief moments back in the garage had been so intense, and Tom’s cock flexed inside his pants as he replayed them again. It was difficult to explain how desperate he felt now or why it had come over him so quickly. All he could think about was Cypress telling him what to do, how to feel, and helping him quiet all the noise in his mind.
I could be such a good boy.
Shit.
Tom quickly finished washing up and headed back to the main office, finding Bosco busy with the paperwork. Aaron was with him, glancing over the documents as Bosco finished up.
If Tom was a bit flushed from his brief fantasy, he would blame the upsetting removal.
“You okay?” Aaron asked, cringing when he saw Tom’s lip. “Shit, she really got you good, huh?”
“I’m good,” Tom insisted. “Really.”
Bosco grunted.
“I’m okay,” Tom said, trying to sound more confident. “Little shook up, but I’m okay now.” He saw the dispatch desk was empty, and he asked, “Where’s Earl?”
“Up front with Gerald and Mr. Crosby again,” Aaron replied. “The Chicken Saga continues.”
“What’s going on now?”
“Apparently, Steve also decided to take the hearse through a fast-food place because his chicken was hungry, and more people saw him. Might be on the news.”
“What did he get the chicken?” Tom wondered out loud.
“I hope it wasn’t nuggets because that would be kinda sick.” Aaron took the paperwork from Bosco, flipping through it quickly. “Okay, lemme go call them, see what they’re thinking. Don’t be surprised if I can’t get an answer about embalming right away.”
“It’s cool.” Tom shrugged off his jacket and flopped down in his chair. “I’ll be here.”
The sooner embalming was performed, the better the results would be. A few hours might not be too damaging to the process, but beyond that, a delay could severely complicate things.
“I’ll let you know.” Aaron sat at his desk, picking up his phone and dialing.
Bosco got up to leave, waving wordlessly at Tom. He was probably going outside to smoke again. When they didn’t have removals to perform, there wasn’t much else for Bosco or the other removal technicians to do.
Tom waved back, and he turned his attention to his desk. It was awkward sitting there listening to Aaron talk to the Dresser family, so he tried to tune him out. He was starting to think about Cypress again.
Better than worrying about Junior and what he had to do tonight.
Tom’s stomach lurched with dread, and he wished he knew what to do. Junior had him by the damn balls, and he was totally trapped in this nightmare.
If he tried to tell Gerald or Mr. Crosby what Junior was making him do, they would probably fire them both on the spot. Tom would almost certainly lose his embalming license, and then probably be arrested. He felt pretty confident Gerald would love to press charges to make an example out of them.
If he decided to keep his mouth shut, Junior was going to continue using him like this indefinitely. It was never going to end, and Tom knew they were sure to get caught eventually. He couldn’t keep fixing the inventory numbers to account for the missing product. Someone was going to notice, and he would have to explain why so much embalming fluid was gone.
No matter what he did, he was so royally fucked. He had never regretted anything more in his life than helping Junior, and he scrambled for some way out of this.
