“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 teen up and returned to his laptop to spend the rest of the night playing a game with friends. 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 amateur 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 public 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 japanese 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. sleeping “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. Her udders still felt uncomfortable with the skin being stretched to adjust to the new size. I found myself salivating for the Russian nerd's hard cock. He reached around and pulled my face towards his so me could make out, him still grinding against me. He reached down and started stroking my sleeping cock. Candy sank to her knees and tugged frantically at amateur Julie's thong, sighing as she revealed her pubic mound. I explained my husband that I and his dad had kinky play in the afternoon and Mahesh arrived in the middle so we separated. I just sat there and didn’t say anything, I felt myself start to tremble. When I explained this to Arthur, he immediately had her quarantined public teen in her room to ensure she would not come into contact with anyone she shouldn’t. Believe me, we took every precaution to ensure her survival wouldn’t cause a japanese paradox.” "A few guys in Dublin…” We giggled as the boys entered us. Ryan saw me looking and went and got them.