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'BarbieGoldberg.'? She goes on next.? Get her squared away."? He fetched a red garter from his desk drawer andtossed it to Barbie.? "That's yourcostume."?? ? ??? And so, his "Human Relations"duties having been taken care of for themoment, he went back to his magazine.?? ???? (Naked??I have to dance totally NAKED?) ??? Miranda was saying something snarly, butBarbie couldn't make much sense out ofit.? Her mind was spinning and her bodystarting to sweat asMiranda propelled her along the corridor.?"Put your garter on,bitch," the big dancer ordered.?(She did understand THAT.)? ???? "No, yours goes on the LEFT leg." ??? Just before they reached the curtains stageright, they passed another nudegirl, her hair in pig-tails, heading in the opposite direction.? There was a moment of silence.? Then the PA crackled, "And now,please welcome our newest.? Bar-bieGold-berg!" ?? ?Barbie barely had time to recognize the tunethat started up -- "GirlsJust Want To Have Fun" -- when she was thrust roughly. I pressed my nose against Tom’s belly. He smelled of sleep. A hint of sweat, maybe something else I couldn’t identify but my brain knew what it was, Tom smelled like a man. There was another thing. Christ, in a second I realized the garlic he’d chopped last night was still on his hands this morning, under his nails, maybe. As he cupped my cheek in one hand and dragged his other palm across my face, I felt each callus when he touched my mouth with his fingers and traced my lips.When I sucked one finger his cock stiffened against my breast. My hair is long and it brushes my back almost all the way to my butt. Easy to grab, and Tom leaned down then and took two handfuls and stuck his nose all the way in and sniffed. Shampoo. The guy loves my shampoo. Probably a little sweat, too, but he didn’t seem to mind.Without a word he straightened up and pulled my face to his dick. “Jane,” is all he said. He was in a hurry. I wasn’t.I barely touched him with three fingers. His cock isn’t all that.
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He ran to the side of the grave preparing to climb in, eager to end the incessant noise. Searching around, he tried to find the Gravediggers – wondering if they were preparing to return from their shelter – nothing, the rain was obviously keeping them at bay. He crouched down. The scratching stopped, his mobile rang. Scrambling his pockets for it, confusion replaced his fear – why was it on? Surely he’d turned it off before entering the cemetery? His questions seemed irrelevant when he saw the number… he answered, recognising his own voice. “It’s over.” That was it. Nothing else. He stood there looking at the phone, confused. Minutes passed before realisation hit him: It’s over – the waiting is over. Despite it making no sense, it was the only explanation – the woman who pushed passed him, ignoring him. She was the dead man’s Wife… his Wife! He thought he’d been at the Funeral of his Foster Brother – but he hadn’t… it was his own! People had talked about the accident on the approach.

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