Drop Dead Sexy

I couldn’t argue with that one. Catcher glanced wildly around the room before grabbing me under my ass and hoisting me up onto the empty gurney. He bent over to retrieve his wallet from his pants that were now around his ankles. After grabbing a condom out, he tossed his wallet behind him.

He opened the condom and slid it on in record time. The next thing I knew he was filling me with his masterful dick. When he thrust into me a second time, his foot hit the lock on the brake, sending the gurney careening forward. Each time he pounded into me, the gurney went gliding further around the room. As we banged, we banged into walls and the furniture in the prep room.

Although the scenery wasn’t the most romantic or seductive, it didn’t take away from the sex. It was just as amazing as in the storeroom and at the Holiday Inn. There was something almost mystical that happened when Catcher and I got together. Like a seismic shift occurred when our bodies were connected. Everything around us melted away to where we were the only people in the world.

Of course in this instance, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to see us like this. Not only we were screwing a few feet from a dead guy, but I’m sure we looked pretty ridiculous doing it. You had me flung half-way across a mortuary gurney with my skirt hitched around my waist, shirt ripped open, with my legs spread as wide as my semi-physically fit body would allow.

Then you had Mr. Alpha Male with his navy blue suit pants bunched around his ankles with his delectable ass full mooning, his belt clanking along the floor with every awe-inspiring thrust into my * while at the same time attempting to reposition me and the gurney.

Pretty sure we would never make it into a movie sex scene. Instead, it probably would find a home in some weird fetish porn.

“Oh God, I’m coming again!” I moaned into Catcher’s neck.

“Me too, babe. Let’s do it together.”

As our bodies shuddered and convulsed, we rode out the high together. When Catcher fell against me, the stretcher lurched forward one last time. That was when I felt something ice cold press against my butt cheek.

“EEEEEEEEE!” I screamed. In my pleasure haze, I didn’t realize that Catcher had fucked us into the other room and bumped the gurney with Mr. Delaney on it. Somehow Mr. Delaney’s arm had fallen off the table. With the beginning of rigor mortis, it had stretched out straight, instead of falling down.

And Catcher last thrust had propelled me to the back of gurney, causing Mr. Delaney’s hand to brush against my bare ass.

I began flailing my arms and kicking my legs to get the gurney to move. When it didn’t budge, I scrambled away, shoving Catcher off me. With my skirt pushed up over my hips, I then did a heeby-jeeby dance around the preparation room. “Ew, ew, EW!”

“Babe, what the hell? You totally just killed my post-fuck buzz.” Catcher stood facing me with his pants around his ankles, and his deflated, condom-attired penis against his thigh.

I rubbed my ass cheek as if I could rub off the ickiness of having a corpse cop a feel on you. Sure, I had brushed up against the dead before and during preparation, but I had on my work apron and gloves.

After glancing back and forth between Mr. Delaney and me, Catcher finally burst out laughing. “Did you just get goosed in the ass by a dead guy?”

“It’s not funny.”

“Actually, it kinda is.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see how much you’d like it,” I grumbled while pulling my thong back on. I then shimmied my skirt back down my thighs. As I started to put Mr. Delaney’s hand back on the gurney, I froze, holding it in midair “What is it?” Catcher asked.

I glanced up from Mr. Delaney’s hand to look at Catcher. “His fingernails have arsenic lines.”

His eyes widened as he closed the distance between us. “Holy shit. Poisoning?”

“See the wide, white lines in his nail beds.”

Catcher leaned over and examined Mr. Delaney’s hands. He let out a low whistle. “I’ll be damned.”

I shook my head dejectedly. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

“It wasn’t like you were answering a call for a suspicious death. Hell, the hospital didn’t even notice it.”

“He was probably just exhibiting signs of a stroke brought on by the poisoning. If they even saw the early lines, they would’ve probably just thought it was a lack of oxygenation.”

Jerking his chin at Mr. Delaney, Catcher asked, “What do you know about him?”

I shrugged. “Nothing really. I’ve never seen him before tonight. He must be new to town…” My voice trailed off as my hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my God. Mr. Delaney had something to do with Randy’s murder, didn’t he?”

“I’d say it was pretty fucking likely.” Catcher started straightening his clothes. “I’ve got to call this in—get the guys figuring out what connection Delaney could possibly have to Randy.”

“Of course.”

He grabbed his suit jacket off the floor and dug his cell phone out of it. He started punching numbers but then stopped to look at me. “This weird ass turn of events means I’m not going to get to take you to dinner tonight.”

“That’s okay. I understand.”