The Death of Saema Chapter 1 Beauty and the Morgue
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The Death Of Saema: Chapter 4, Homecoming free porn video
Later in the afternoon, a private viewing was scheduled for an elderly man who was in the cooler behind a metal door, but Emile knew that they needed to embalm Saema so that they could have her transported up to Pennsylvania without having decomposition set in to any visible degree. She walked up to the slab and pulled off the sheet that was shrouding her corpse, exposing her to the room.
“Her family should be emailing in the address of the funeral home that will be handling her final services sometime this morning,” she said casually. “We’ll need to get her embalmed and placed in a transport casket to be shipped home.”
“Got it.” Victor would normally not have had to help with an embalming, but staffing was at an all-time low at the funeral home lately and he was training to be a mortician, after all. “I’m, uhhh…”
Mrs. Vargas was already getting some tools ready. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. You want to get your hours in, right?”
Victor nodded. The older woman walked back over to the slab upon which the girl’s pale corpse rested and set some tools down on a tray. She went over the notes given by the morgue’s staff regarding her official height and weight and jotted down some notes regarding the volume of embalming fluid to use. Victor looked at her as he picked up a scalpel and she nodded at him, indicating for him to continue. With delicate, though large, hands, Victor made successive incisions at the brachial arteries and gently at the neck while Emile used a foot pedal to change the angle of the slab slightly, allowing gravity to bring the blood trickling slowly down to a drain near Saema’s tagged feet.
Bleeding the corpse mostly dry took a few minutes, and while Victor waited patiently for the tell-tale signs of the bleeding stopping, Mrs. Vargas was getting ready to aspirate the corpse. “Very good,” she said as the blood came mostly to a halt.
As Emile was slowly making the puncture to begin the aspiration process, Victor chimed in. “What if we didn’t aspirate the body, Misses Vargas? I mean, they didn’t do this kind of thing a hundred years ago, did they?”
The older woman’s gaze didn’t really change as she began began suctioning abdominal fluid from the girl resting on the cold mortuary slab. “Any liquid or other organic substance left within the body will eventually cause decay,” she said coldly. “Embalming procedures have come a long way, though there were skilled embalmers even in the 19th century.” Victor nodded. “But a lot of this girl’s organs were removed during her autopsy and sealed in the viscera bags in the box over there, so really, a lot of our work is already done.”
She adjusted the trajectory as the aspirator began to gurgle a bit. “Ah, cool,” he replied, realizing that he came off sounding a bit dumb. “So are we shipping the organs back with her?”
Emile pulled the aspirator out and began wiping the tip off with an antiseptic wipe. “We will. Unless we are told otherwise, we don’t want to do something that will upset the family. Different people have different cultural processes. Some will want all organs interred or cremated with the body.”
Mrs. Vargas took her gloves off and gave Victor the file with Saema’s information on it. “I’m going to go and check our email and then call Ms. Markall’s father to confirm her arrangements. Finish with the embalming and then we’ll get her encoffined and out of here.”
Emile closed the door behind her and walked down the hall and into a cozy office off of the main foyer. After shaking the mouse to wake the monitor up and entering her password, she fired up her mail client and saw that her father had indeed sent the information she had requested. She kicked her black heels off and flexed her ankles a bit.
“Beaver Falls,” she said. She honestly had no idea where that was, but then, she had also never visited the state before. Seeing the telephone number of the receiving funeral parlor, she picked up the handset for the cordless phone next to her keyboard and placed a half-hour call to confirm transit details. She would also contact the airline that would be bringing her body to Pennsylvania to arrange all final details with them for the evening.
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When Emile finally came back into the main embalming and preparation room, Victor had finished the embalming and was setting the tools back into storage for the moment. Some of the “life” was sort of seeping back into Saema’s cold, pale skin as she lay naked on the mortuary slab. It was now just after 10:00 AM, so they would need to finish prepping her for transport and then get about the rest of their work for the day.
“Victor: Go get the transit casket out of the back while I get her clothes the boyfriend gave us out.” Victor nodded and walked across the hall and unlocked a door that led to a storage room and could be heard moving a few things around to get to the casket. It really wasn’t that often that the funeral home had to prepare bodies for long-distance shipment, so the casket was stored towards the back wall of the cluttered room.
Mrs. Vargas walked to the counter that was near the sink and cleaning station and got out an over-sized ziplock bag from a drawer that Saema’s boyfriend had given to her the day they had picked her body up from the morgue. The actual clothes that she would wear during transportation didn’t matter all that much, and if he had failed to provide anything she would have simply dressed her in a gown similar to one for hospital patients, but the young man had given them a pair of pajamas that she had apparently liked and Emile thought this at least would make her look restful.
Victor returned a moment later with the steel casket and wheeled it over to the side of the slab. Emile turned and gave the nude corpse one last look over before she would go about the task of dressing her. Saema’s skin looked like it was improving in color despite her having been dead for close to four days. Victor had truthfully done a good job with the actual embalming itself. She peered down at her face and noticed that he had remembered to put two small cotton balls in the girl’s nostrils. A southward glance followed by a closer inspection between the dead girl’s legs revealed that her sex had been similarly plugged and cotton had been wadded up and forced up her puckered asshole. With the casket being lined with plastic, leakage would not be a major issue and really, with this temporary sealing job, she should have no problem surviving the journey up north.
The two carefully sat the girl’s corpse up on the marble slab and, with Victor raising her arms up over her head, Emile slipped on the soft pajama shirt - a cute pink top with little monkeys on it. Obviously, the girl had an interesting sense of humor, but many would probably have found it endearing. After laying her back down on the slab, her head landing rather hard, they worked together - one with each leg - to work the matching pants carefully over her chocolate-colored toe nails, past her feet, legs, and knees, and securely up to her curvy hips.
“No shoes, right?” Victor asked.
“The boyfriend didn’t bring any,” she remarked. “That’s good, anyway. In case they need to quickly identify her at some point during transit, we want her toe tags clearly visible and accessible.”
Since Saema was rather light, Emile suggested that they simply pick her corpse up and place it into the waiting casket themselves rather than make use of one of the lifting tools they had. Victor grabs her around the ankles and Emile works up under her shoulders and, with a rather fluid motion, they lift her up off the slab and swing her to the casket settled just a couple feet below the slab. Emile’s grip starts to fail at the last minute and the corpse lands with a thud in the casket, but all-in-all the process goes well.
Emile takes a few final photographs of Saema’s restful corpse as she lays barefoot and toe-tagged in the transport casket and, with a nod to Victor, indicates that they are finally finished with her.
“Wheel her into the cooler and we’ll keep her there until the van arrives to bring her to the airport.”
And, with those final words from his boss, Victor looks one last time at the cold piece of ass laying with cotton plugs up her stinking asshole and toe tags pressed between her soles and the foot of the casket. He takes the viscera bag, drops it between the girl’s cheesy feet, and shuts the lid on the casket.
Saema is wheeled through a set of doors in the embalming room and into a large, walk-in cooler where her casket sits with three others, awaiting transit to her home state for her wake, funeral, and burial.
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The transport van that had been chartered out by the airline that was responsible for flying her body back home to Pennsylvania had arrived at the funeral home at 3:00 in the afternoon, checking over and initialling all required paperwork. Victor also opened the girl’s casket so that they could verify that the living photographs of the girl they were given matched the embalmed, barefoot corpse laying before them. One of the couriers moved Saema’s cool left foot and double-checked the toe-tag and then dropped it back in place.
With that, Saema’s transport casket was closed and put in the back of the van and driven out to the airport. TSA agents reviewed the paperwork present with airline and cargo staff, deciding that everything appeared to be in order. They opted not to open the casket again, citing that the verification by the transport drivers would serve as good enough for them. Cargo operators were then responsible for getting the casket onto an inclined conveyor and up into the plane’s cargo hold where a worker found a place to secure it down and make sure it would not move around during flight.
The flight would depart Los Angeles at around 4:55 PM and with the connecting stops it had to make would not reach Philadelphia International until 11:18 PM Eastern Time. It would be after 1:30 in the morning by the time her body had arrived Jupiter Hill Mortuary Services’ receiving bay in the small town of Beaver Falls.
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“Fuckin’ nightshift,” Carlo muttered to himself as he pulled his earbuds out and typed an “AFK” message into the chat window of the MMO he was playing. “That raid was going great, too. Probably shouldn’t have started it though,” he sighed.
Carlo was the on-call attendant this evening. He was a 24-year-old college student who worked over the weekends because it was easy work and, honestly, a good part-time job was hard to find in a small town like Beaver Falls. He was responsible with dealing with any new clients that arrived in the late hours, and tidying up a bit, but his main job there was security. He’d been working there for about five months so far, and up to this point his job had been a cakewalk.
Normally, the young man would have thought that getting a client in at this hour was strange, but the funeral director had told him that there’d be an arrival scheduled sometime after 11PM that evening, so he was expecting it. Well, truthfully, he had sort of let it slip his mind because he had gotten involved with a dungeon raid just thirty minutes prior to her arrival, and if he had fully remembered he wouldn’t have done so.
Flicking on the light to illuminate the back drive, he unbolted the lock and opened the worn wooden door out into the mellow night air.
“You, uhhhh…” a gruff voice started as a van door opened. “Carlo Maretti?” The voice came from a heavy set man in jeans and a grey dress shirt with the name ‘Stalton’ over the left pocket.
“Yep, that’s me,” the young man replied. “Unless there’s some other asshole named Carlo working at a fuckin’ funeral home at midnight on a Friday.”
The driver chuckled. “Glad you’ve got a sense of humor. Bet you need it workin’ this job.” He handed Carlo a clipboard with various papers attached to it. “I’m supposed to give you all this. It’s related to her transport here from over in California,” he said. Stalton walked around to the back of the van and opened the double doors. “You need to verify this is her before I head out of here?” He looked around, appearing a little uneasy.
“I’m assuming the guys at TSA didn’t completely fuck it up,” Carlo began. “Looks to me like everything is in order, unless someone abducted the corpse mid-flight and parachuted off that plane.” He shrugged. “Ah, man...Yeah, I guess we’d better take a look. I don’t want to be caught with my pants down later if it’s not her.”
Stalton shrugged and pulled a key out of a small bag he had with him and slid it into a lock on the side of the coffin. After a quick turn, a snapping sound indicated that the lid had been unlocked. He looked at the young guy, really not wanting to have to be the one to open the thing up. Carlo sensed this, so he went ahead and lifted the lid back and peered inside.
There, lying barefoot in her pajamas was Saema, relatively unchanged from when she had been sealed in the coffin back in California. Carlo had only had to identify a few bodies in his five months with the Jupiter Hill Mortuary, normally because they just didn’t get that many arrivals during his night shift, and the corpse lying before him was perhaps the most beautiful he had seen during this time.
He cleared his throat and then looked at the photographs that came with her body and nodded at the driver. “Alright, yeah, that’s definitely her.” He quickly closed the lid, his crotch bulging. He didn’t want to give away his sudden excitement. The two men pulled her coffin out and onto a waiting metal transport unit.
“Great. I’m outta here then. You have a nice night, kid.”
After the van pulled away, Carlo spent a couple moments getting Saema’s coffin wheeled into the mortuary and into the receiving area. He knew though that they would likely have to get her on cold storage pretty soon, but he couldn’t remember the exact instructions. He walked back to the small office where his laptop was set up and pulled up an email in Outlook, scrolling through it.
“Jeez, just so many frickin’ emails,” he muttered, scrolling through his inbox. “Ah, yeah, this is it.” He scrolled through the text and saw that they wanted him to just wheel her into the walk-in refrigerator area and leave her there until the staff arrived the next morning.
Just my luck, he thought to himself, shrugging. He got up and walked back to the receiving area and grabbed onto the handles of the carrier and pushed Saema’s transport coffin through the cold, tiled room where several empty slabs lie dormant, waiting for bodies to grace them in the morning, and to the metallic doors of the fridge area. Removing a small key from his pocket that he had been given just for occasions like this, he unlocked and opened the door, wheeling the cart off to the corner of the room.
Not being here during normal daylight hours, Carlo took a minute to look around the room and see if there were any new clients he didn’t know about. Normally, in this town, the funeral home dealt with a lot of older clients dying of natural causes or disease. Sometimes, a young man or woman would come in having died in a car accident or perhaps having contracted cancer or some other fatal illness, but unlike major cities in the area, the client pool was rather limited. But, being a small town like this allowed Jupiter to receive most of the business and to stay in business for as long as it has. Death, the funeral director had told him when he first hired on, will always be in style.
There were a few bodies in the refrigerator that were either waiting to be prepared for their services or which were being stored for a while until being claimed. Occasionally, they would get a body in which they had to keep for upwards of a month or more because family had specifically requested that they wait on the funeral until a family member who was out of the country could return for the service, but that was fairly rare.
Getting cold, and not wanting to spend too much time in there, Carlo locked back up and returned to his laptop to spend the rest of the night playing a game with friends.
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At 7:00 the next morning, the funeral director came in and spoke briefly with Carlo as he packed his laptop away and then sent him home for the day. He went into his main office and logged into his sleeping desktop computer and checked on the paperwork that had been PDF’d and sent his way from Mrs. Vargas in California and then compared that to the documents on the clipboard that had been left in the inbox in the hallway. He would call Saema’s parents at around 10:00 to let them know that she had arrived, but for now, he would go ahead and get his assistant to help get her out of the coffin she had been transported in so that they could arrange for that to be sent back to California and then get her tagged and onto a gurney of their own in the fridge until they were ready to prep her for her wake, which would be sometime the next evening.
The director’s assistant, a Korean man of 36, had already wheeled her out of storage and opened the coffin in the main processing area by the time he walked that way. On the metal slab next to the one Saema would soon occupy lay the bloated and aromatic corpse of Elizabeth Laseter - a 43-year-old black-haired woman who had died of a massive heart attack while on the toilet in her home and who remained undiscovered for several days. Her pale, slightly marbled hands and feet were tied together, likely as part of the transport procedure from the local morgue, with two toe-tags dangling from her right big-toe and another from her left, the nails of which were painted a faint dark blue.
“Looks like they already embalmed her for us,” the Asian man said as he grabbed her by the feet, the director taking her under the shoulders. As Saema didn’t way too terribly much, they had no trouble lifting her from the coffin and setting her down on the slab.
“Yes, makes our work easier,” was the quick reply he got. The director looked her over for a few moments, made a few notes on his clipboard, and then got out a digital camera. As per their usual policy, he snapped a few quick photographs of her corpse and then put the camera down. “Viewing’s not until tomorrow night,” he noted aloud. “So we’ll work more on her tomorrow morning.”
“No problem. So should we get to work on Mrs. Laseter over there?” the assistant said, crooking his neck.
“Not yet. The husband is out of the country and won’t be able to return for some time, so there’s no rush yet. But, we do need to get Mr. Simmons ready for his wake since that’s at four o’clock,” he said calmly. Mr. Kim got a rolling storage tray out from a small alcove next to the walk-in refrigeration area and wheeled it over to the slab on which Saema’s tagged corpse lay. The two men picked her up and quickly dropped her on the tray and Kim got out a plastic tarp to drape over her corpse, leaving her toe-tagged feet exposed. As the funeral director walked out to make a quick phone call, Kim replaced the toe tag the previous funeral home and put on with one from their own establishment and then he wheeled Saema’s body into the fridge and parked it next to that of a naked, heavy-set middle-aged African American male who had died of a massive stroke. His long penis was curved and pressed against the plastic cover that was his only bit of modesty, his brown eyes staring glassy and blank at the cold ceiling above.
By the time the funeral director had returned to the main preparation room, Kim had already wheeled out the body of Edgar Simmons, an 86-year-old black man who had died of natural causes two days prior. No autopsy had been performed as it was evident that he had died of a heart attack in his sleep, so the funeral home had picked him up after local EMS responders had documented what happened at his home. His wife had gone by the funeral home the day before to drop off a new suit, shirt, and some dress shoes that he would be buried in, and given that they had already performed his embalming later that same day, their main task here was to get him dressed, apply some make-up, and get him laid out in the casket the family had ***********ed.
Dressing Simmons’s body took around an hour as the pair was very careful and respectful throughout the entire procedure. Since he was to be buried in dress shoes, the had removed his toe tags and tied them on his arms, a bit past the wrist, where they would not be visible given the length of the sleeves of his dress shirt and coat, but would be there for identification purposes later if needed. Light make-up was applied to his hands, face, and what bit of his neck was visible in order to give him a more life-like appearance, and once they were done, they carefully got him back on a tray so that they could wheel him into the casketing area and get him laid out for his viewing that afternoon. -->
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