Alsace Red

I flared my nostrils over the lip of the bulbous wine glass, breathing in deep the hypnotic aura of the mercury red liquid; feeling it wash acrid over the roof of my mouth, pleasingly masking the very different sterile kind of acrid that was the atmosphere of the room that encroached upon the back of my throat.

Deeply satisfied; I took my time in replacing the glass on the table, observing my leering, distorted reflection shapeshift from pelican beak to Wizard of Oz forehead. The light from the lone inspection lamp glinted virginal white over the reflection's eyes. I set the glass down with a dull clank beside the tall, green tinted bottle that rose to an elegant, feminine shoulder and a smooth, narrow neck.

I eagerly anticipated the graceful consumption of my Alsace red- Oh, how I love a good Alsace red- the efficient, firm, dry texture and breathy, lustful accents. The effective with the romantic- so obviously from Germanic France.

I sparked a match, allowing the rasping sensation against the side of the box to thrill me a little before surrendering to the sulphur scent that carressed me. I lit the four tall candles I had brought and stood at each corner of the small specimen tray on which I had placed the wine.

I'd made sure the candlewax was of a lusty, inviting crimson that gave play to visions of burning, heaving, naked flesh. It gave life to the dim room; everything sterile white shrouded in shadow, or stainless, surgical grey steel reflecting blurredly the flickering candle flames or the hot white of the inspection lamp; surrounding us with stars.

I briefly looked across to the distant corner of the room, which rested in total darkness, to the door, so as to reassure myself that we were indeed locked in. Of course; I'd known that we were. If I were half so sloppy as that I'd have been caught in the middle of one of these illicit liasons long ago.

I indulged myself in one of the plump, ripe strawberries that I had brought for us; enjoying its earthy odour, and finally, oh, finally allowed myself to relish in the ecstacy of my Alsace red, the deep red of the liquid playing well beside the scathing scarlet of the strawberries in the mischievous candlelight. I raised my glass in toast:

"To us, my darling. And to seizing tonight as if it were an extra day of life given graciously unto us."

I leisurely enjoyed the rest of my glass of Alsace red- Oh, my Alsace red- as I cast my gaze up and down the perfect specimen that was my date's young body.

Her short, choppy fringe and bangs framed her delicate, china doll face, and the fiery, regal red hair brought colour and vitality to her pallid flesh. Only twenty-four years old; her aqua eyes were still enchantingly innocent, her lips painted teasing rouge, full and pouting.

Her smooth, narrow neck sloped to her elegant, feminine shoulders, whereat her skin met the boundary of the glacier that was her gown; brilliant white and sweeping the length of her body, down to her ankles, and fanning out around her, partially concealing her firm, young breasts, and tender, slender figure, rendering her all the more desireable. A picture of innocence and helplessness. To think that I; at the age of fifty-three and with a receding hairline, could still get girls this young and beautiful...

There aren't many perks to being a mortician- But this is definitely one of them.

I poured myself another glass of Alsace red and took my time in drinking it.

I rested a hand on her shoulder. I elated to find it lukewarm to touch. She had come to us late that evening; and so the only time she had spent in the freezer had been the brief two hours between the ending of the daytime shifts and the beginning of my graveyard shift. Cause of death had not yet been established; and so her blood had not yet been drained. She was quickly returning to room temperature.

Only twenty-four years of age. Such a shame to have them with us so young, I thought inwardly- She should still be flunking mid-terms and drunkenly exposing herself at frat-house parties.

With the next sip of my Alsace red, my fleeting melancholy had passed. After so many years; this job had desensitised me to death quite effectively.

There aren't many perks to being a mortician- But this is definitely one of them.

I undid my tie furtively, before slipping off my shirt and pants. I slid my underwear to the floor and stepped out of them. I relished the slight chill in the air and the tingle that ran up the length of my spine for an instant.

I pulled away her white paper gown, letting it crumple awkwardly to the floor. Feeling rather silly standing before my young lady wearing nothing but my shoes and my black tube socks; I removed them and stood once more.

I grasped the inside of her thigh, feeling it to be firm and supple. Rigormortis had not even set in. Every nerve in my body firing at once; I grasped her thighs, forcing them apart, gently, patiently.

I ran a probing fingertip between her legs, separating the labia majora, sliding my hand upward to expose the clitoral glans. I flattened my palm; cupping her, running my fingers through her strip of groomed pubic hair.

Briefly, begrudgingly, I withdrew my hand, returning it to apply the necessary petroleum jelly.

Intensely aroused; I slid on a condom- you never know who's carrying what these days. Also, any DNA left behind could convict me and lead to a divorce I cannot afford. I climbed onto the cold, hard, abrasive slab on which she lay waiting.

I lowered myself onto her, my elbows trembling, and pushed inwards. I began to thrust more and more enthusiastically, forcing open her rigid mouth and pressing my tongue against hers; stale tasting, dry and motionless.

There aren't many perks to being a mortician- But this is definitely one of them.

Out of courtesy to my date, I delayed myself through distraction. I wondered which would offend people more about this encounter- the wedding ring around my finger or the tag around her toe.

The french call an orgasm "the little death". Imagine how mind blowing the larger kind of death must feel...

Something was exploding inside of me. My brain was turning to magma, and all I could see for several moments was a blinding glare of red; which slowly faded to blizzard white.

I collapsed on top of her before forcing myself to rise, panting. I kissed her lovingly on the cheek as I climbed off and commenced the necessary cleaning up.

"And the best part is; I've already been introduced to your parents" I told her dryly as I dressed. They'd come to identify her earlier.

There aren't many perks to being a mortician- But this is definitely one of them.