St. Mary’s Cemetery was a beautiful old graveyard with rows and rows of fancy monuments and statues. There was no doubt that most who had been buried here had led successful lives. The mausoleums were numerous and the grounds well kept. The older grave stones had been washed clean by the elements and I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be until the dead beneath the lush green lawn were forgotten for eternity. I knew there was a book with every name printed within by way of a record but books were not eternal. Nothing was.
I was saddened as I drove to the back row and parked my old clunker of a car. I shut the ignition off and listened as it sputtered and then finally quit. I reached over and carefully lifted the bouquet of pink and yellow roses in the passenger seat . The flowers were beautiful, the bouquet had been expensive, perhaps a bit more expensive than I could afford. It didn’t matter though, money was as temporary as life. No need to hoard it.
I could not count the number of times I had made this trip for I visited her grave every day. I tried to pick up flowers when I could, usually three times a week, maybe four on a good week. I loved to come here. It was the only place I felt at peace. Her grave was graced with a tall statue of an angel holding a child. Etched into the marble under the angel’s bare feet were the words :
Christina Marie Everest
May 7th, 1998 - August 15th, 2001
Beloved baby girl whose life touched everyone she met
May the angels rock her to sleep
I placed the bouquet into it’s holder and then knelt down onto the spongy earth of the grave. The sky was threatening rain for the second time today and moisture soaked my knees through the fishnet stockings I wore. The loud rumble of thunder followed by a bright flash of lightning startled me for a second but I hadn’t finished my daily ritual yet and so I ignored the ominous weather and rested my head on the angel’s feet and wept as I did every day. I mourned for my lost daughter, the little girl who’d had the sweetest blonde curls before the chemotherapy had robbed her of them. I mourned for all the milestones I would miss even as I remembered her first smile, her first word, her first steps. The tears fell bitterly down my cheeks and dripped onto my clothes.
I did not notice when rain joined my tears. I didn’t care if I got soaked. I never felt more alive then when I was amongst the dead. This is where I belonged not out in the world of the living with their ever present smiles and words of encouragement. I remembered Gina the florist and how she had asked me how I was today in that casual manner that proprietors often use with their customers. I just stared at her hard and long until she finally looked away. She surely couldn’t be dumb enough to think I was having a happy existence. Everyone in the city knew who I was and what had happened to Christina. Fuck, I was at the shop buying flowers for her grave. Yeah, I wanted to say, I am just peachy, stupid bitch.
I don’t know how long I knelt there weeping as the storm raged on around me, bending the branches of the old oak trees that were scattered throughout the headstones. My emotions were raw as they seemed to always be and I wanted nothing more than to sink through the earth and be with my baby.
“Mrs. Everest?” said a male voice from somewhere behind me.
“The weather is only going to get worse, there are tornado watches in effect. It’s not safe for you to be here,” said the mystery man.
“Maybe I can get struck by lightning or something.” I said as I rocked back onto the heels of my knee high boots and stood up.
I turned and looked at him finally and found him attractive even in the yellow rain slicker that he wore. His green eyes were full of compassion as he looked at me. He was taller than I and I was tall for a woman at five eleven. I could see the stained knees of his blue coveralls peeking out from under the bright raincoat. He was obviously a gravedigger judging by his muddy boots and clothes.
I knew I looked a sight as I stood looking at him. I was wearing my work clothes which were designed to be revealing and the chill of the rain was causing my nipples to protrude under my skimpy silk blouse. My mini skirt had ridden up higher onto my thighs and I tugged at the soggy material in an attempt to put it back in it’s place. I knew my mascara was probably halfway down my cheeks and my lipstick was most likely smeared but I didn’t really care. I wasn’t looking to turn a trick. I just wanted to be left alone.
He stared back at me for a moment before holding out his hand to me. “Come, I know a place we can take shelter until the storm passes and then you can finish your visit with Christina.” The way he spoke her name was as if she were still alive. Most people spoke her name in hushed tones as if the mere mention of her name would send me into fits. The truth is I needed to hear her name. I loved the sound of it in my ears.
“Yes,” I agreed and shivered, the rain seeming to drench my soul. I liked the way he had offered to find me shelter rather than forcing me to leave. I took his hand and allowed him to lead me through the cemetery. I walked carefully so my spiked heals wouldn’t sink into the ground.
He lead me into a mausoleum and closed the door behind us. It was dark but he lit one of the candles that had been left on a makeshift altar by the bereaved family members of the dead who rested here. The effect was eerie and I shivered again in the cool tomb.
The silence was awkward so I occupied myself with reading the names that were engraved on the brass plates of the drawers. The deceased had been gone many years. The most recent inscription read 1975. I rubbed my goose bump covered arms wishing I had a sweater for warmth.
“I know you must be cold.” he said as he took off the raincoat and began to unzip his coveralls. I watched him warily. I’d had sex four times today and certainly wasn’t in the mood at the moment. He pulled off his long sleeved tee shirt and handed it to me.
“Put this on.” He said.
I knew it would do no good to put it on over my sopping wet blouse so I turned away and unbuttoned it. I looked down at the tattoo on my left breast. It was of a purple butterfly. Christina had loved to chase them in our backyard and purple was her favorite color. A flashback of my baby girl laying in her casket in a long lavender gauzy dress invaded my mind for a second and I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. The memories always haunted me, there was only one way to escape them, there was no hope for me to lead a normal life and so I turned around and looked at the stranger.
My breasts were full and hung just slightly less perky than they had been when I was young. My dusky nipples pointed outward as if targeting the object of my need. I needed this man to make me forget. Sex was the only part of my life that Christina had never been involved with. Memories of her did not enter my mind when my body was joined with someone else.
“Fuck me.” I said and my voice seemed to echo in the gloomy crypt.
The man took a step backward but his eyes were hungrily feasting on my breasts and erect nipples.
“Mrs. Everest, I...” he started to protest.
I stepped closer to him and he took more steps back to evade me but it was only a few feet until his legs came against the candle altar. I placed a red polished finger nail over his lips.
“I am not married to the mayor anymore. You’ve no need to worry that there will be problems.” I would get my way with this man. Nothing would stop me. I had to push those memories from my mind or I would go insane.
A crash of thunder startled us both and I leaned against the warmth of his dry coveralls and slipped my hand inside to caress the muscles of his chest. I sighed when I felt his arms come up around me. The warmth was electrifying and welcomed.
“I know why you became a prostitute.” He said quietly. “but you can not run from what haunts you. You have to allow yourself to grieve throughout your day not just at the cemetery. You can’t turn it on and off like a faucet.”
“You know nothing.” I said in disgust and turned away.
“but I do, Caroline,” he said and walked to one side of the crypt and lovingly stroked the nameplate of one of one of the graves.
“This is my mother, she was murdered when I was eight.” He turned those incredible eyes back on me as he finished speaking. “I know a few things about grief.”
“Do you know that the only time I can feel anything besides misery is when I am being banged by a man and that any man will do?” I asked.
He nodded. “I think everyone has their means of escape.”
“Will you help me escape?” I asked.
He came to me then and leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth. I groaned loudly at the contact and grabbed his hair roughly as I urged him downward onto the cold floor.
I undressed him hurriedly. I didn’t even stop to look at him until he was naked before me and his physique was glorious and muscular. His cock was long and hard and begging for my mouth so I sucked it without hesitation. I sucked him so hard that he tangled his fingers in my wet hair and began shoving his cock down my throat. I liked it. I wanted it. I needed it. I sucked his head as if it was the sweetest lollipop and licked his shaft as if it were sugar coated. I reached around and grabbed his ass in my hands and squeezed his cheeks hard as he fucked my mouth. I loved cock down my throat. I didn’t even gag much anymore since I was giving at least three blow jobs a day and sometimes up to as many as a dozen. it depended on the kind of day I was having. My tongue licked his balls and I sucked them into my mouth like they were the most succulent delicacy. I didn’t mind that they were hairy. I liked to suckle them and smell their musky man-scent and this man had been working hard all day so he smelled quite strongly.
“Damn, you give good head,” he mumbled as he thrust his hips up against my mouth over and over.
I stood up and pulled my skirt off and revealed my naked snatch. No sense wearing panties when the whole idea of your profession was to get out of them as soon as possible. His eyes were drawn to my clean shaven pussy and I saw his tongue flicker out across his top lip.
“You have no idea how good you look standing there in your boots and fishnets.”
“Your face and cock tell me all I need to know.” I laughed.
Suddenly he reached out and grabbed me hard, painfully crushing my tits to his chest. His tongue thrust into my mouth as he pushed me back against a wall of graves. I cried out in pain and fear. His aggression was scaring me a bit because it had come on so unexpectedly.
He stooped and then lifted me so that my legs were up around his waist and his cock was at my pussy entrance and then he rammed it up into me and began pumping me roughly. I clung to him tightly as he fucked me hard, making my hips slap against the drawers.
The heat of his cock inside of my chilled body began to emanate outward with each thrust until eventually my clit felt sparks and then began to burn out of control like a wildfire. I gasped and squealed as he plunged into me and my orgasm built as if carefully kindled.
He didn’t slow his pace, he increased it in time to my moans and gasps and then suddenly the edge of reality was gone and I toppled over an imaginary cliff and plummeted into oblivion as I came harder than I had ever cum in my life.
I heard him laugh as he set my feet on the ground and pushed on the back of my head urging me downward to suck him some more. I carefully cleaned his cock of my juices and then he walked around behind me and bent me over.
Two fingers slid inside my wet pussy which he worked rapidly and then he pulled them out and slid one into my ass. I cried out at the intrusion but he worked his finger in a gentle circle and the pain and burning faded and were replaced with a pleasurable sensation. He slid his other juice slicked finger into me and fucked me gently with them until I could almost feel my ass loosen around them. I rocked back on his fingers as he shoved them into me and I wanted more there. I wanted to feel something deep in me. He seemed to read my mind because he suddenly pulled his fingers out and pushed his engorged head against my puckered hole. His cock slid easily into the slightly stretched orifice but there was still a little pain until I became accustomed to the feeling and relaxed myself around him. Once I relaxed, the experience became intensely pleasurable especially when he reached down and expertly manipulated my clit coaxing my body to feel that wonderful sensation that can only be achieved with a skillful lover.
I started to cum and my ass gripped his cock tightly as he rammed into me time after time. I screamed so loud that I imagined the dead could hear me and were stirring in their slumber. Just the thought of his cock in my ass made the orgasm go on and on as I continued sliding back onto him. He kept riding me, gripping my hips hard with his roughened hands as he plunged and withdrew until I heard him grunt and then a hot gush of his baby making fluid shot into a place that God never intended it to go. He gave a few more complimentary thrusts and then pulled out of my ravaged, spasm wracked ass and stood up quickly.
I was still on my hands and knees and my forehead was pressed into the dusty floor as if it were glued to it. My knees felt bruised from the hardness of the tile. I finally stood up on shaky legs and looked at him. He didn’t meet my eyes as he dressed, nor did I meet his as I put my uncomfortable wet clothes back on.
Thankfully, the storm had subsided and we left the shelter of the old mausoleum without a word to each other. I walked back toward my car and as I approached it the black veil of my grief once again descended upon me. I decided I would stay out late tonight and maybe turn a few more tricks before the exhaustion overtook me so I could finally fall asleep and dream of my sweet little girl.