Author's Foreword: Every single person who's read this said they thought it was one of the sickest things they've ever seen. With a smile.

Lucky Stiff

There's a certain peace in a morgue. The stillness of death isn't as unpleasant an atmosphere as one might think. At least it's cool year-round. And it sure beats working at MacDonald's with a different kind of dead meat.

I was sitting behind the reception desk, reading up for one of my finals. Christmas is a slow period in the morgue, made up for only by the rush of drunken deaths that New Year's Eve parties bring. So it was a surprise to hear the door bump open and see a sheriff's deputy wheeling a stretcher in.

"Got another one for ya. Young female. Drug overdose." This was the pleasantly laconic deputy. He'd been dealing with these things long enough to not have a faintly greenish tinge to either his face or his words when he brought one in. Better than the rookie whose stomach would heave even if I didn't make some callous remark.

He handed me some papers; I filled in the necessary blanks and filed them in the appropriate places. Next came the fun part--shelving the body.

As I wheeled the stretcher to the refrigerator shelves I flipped up the sheet to look at the corpse's face. Gosh, she was cute. Long red hair, a skin tone that couldn't be dulled even by death, and a cute smile that rigor mortis hadn't gotten to yet. Must have been a pleasant drug overdose.

It hit me when I slid her over to the shelf. Poing! and I had an erection. It's my secret shame that I discovered not long after I started working here. Not only am I turned on by live girls, but by dead ones. And now it was taking over again. I'd tried struggling against it, but it did no good. I couldn't stop myself, and even now I knew I'd have to make it with . . . what did her form say? . . . Jennifer.

I finished arranging her on the shelf and then started to take my clothes off. I straddled her and stroked her cool, smooth, gray skin. For an eerie moment I thought I felt warmth from her, but soon realized it was my own flushing. I smoothed the first few drops of fluid on the head of my penis around for lubrication, and plunged in.

It was incredible. As I thrust and pulled, her cunt began to stiffen. The rigor mortis must have been progressing. It all felt so . . . so lifelike. And yet there was the coolness I'd never feel with a live woman. After several minutes of pushing and panting, stroking her dead breasts, kissing her cold lips, I had one of the most incredible orgasms of my life. It was so powerful I couldn't stop thrusting, and soon I realized I wouldn't stop until I had spent myself within her yet again. Then, exhausted, I laid my head on her chest and before I knew it I was asleep.

I woke with a start. How long had I been here? I'd better get back to work before I got noticed. Then I heard the front door slam. Holy shit. It was like a one-man Laurel and Hardy movie--I straightened her body back out, threw a sheet over her, started to pull my shirt on over my legs, re-arranged the sheet, finally got the right bits of clothing over the right parts of my body, and had all of three seconds to compose myself and get everything in order while I heard footsteps come down the hall.

It was the county medical examiner. I hope he hadn't come for . . . what was her name again? . . . oh yeah, Jennifer before I had a chance to clean her out. "What are you doing back here?" he said. "There haven't been any reports of bodies coming in for four hours now."

Four hours, eh. At least I woke up before the old man came in. One of my darker fantasies was to be caught in the act. "I thought I'd check up on things. Remember the problem we had with the rats last year? I know they patched the hole in the wall, but when I've been in here I sometimes could have sworn I heard them squeaking."

"Well that's mighty upstanding of you, son. But cut the chitchat and get me E5."

Oh shit, my guilty mind thought, not D5. That's Jennifer. I stood paralyzed for nearly a second before I realized he'd said E5. Relieved, I leapt to the drawer, pulled it open, and rolled the stretcher over. The coroner even helped me slide the body of the dead man over to the stretcher. He either grumbled his appreciation or cleverly disguised a burp, and left. And as I stood there in relief at not being discovered, I knew I'd never have another body like Jennifer's again.

Author's afterword: You were warned.

Escape while you still can