"Hey, Sugar!" Mark's voice is the first thing I hear when I walk out of the single table embalming room, sanitizing my hands. I had just finished the last body we had at the moment, preserved and presentable for the memorial service Paul will deliver them to. I had worn gloves and a clothing covering, but it's a habit to sanitize everything before and after handling the deceased, chemicals, and tools.

I had come in early, nearly four in the morning, it was still night and the drive here gave me a nice stargazing opportunity. Paul gave me a call to come in and help pick up a corpse, afterward I decided to stay rather than use his offer to go home. Mark wasn't thrilled I didn't go back to sleep when he called hours later. My boyfriend of six months has been pushing me to have a healthy lifestyle, including a good sleep schedule. However, he promised to stop by at lunch to take me out, and spend time together as a form of a break. Mark is amazing, I'm happy we met and continued seeing each other. He makes me feel wanted, loved and appreciated in everything he does. Taking me out to brunch, dinner or bringing snacks at work; he's been a great help at organizing my life as odd as that may be. While I had my apartment and work schedule organized, as much as call-in hours could be, my eating and sleep schedule was completely off. Most of this is because of my work hours, death doesn't offer to wait and being called in is often unavoidable.

My boyfriend has been a huge help in getting me to eat healthier, fruits and vegetables, a salad on the side of a meal occasionally. I ate decently before we met, my kitchen wasn't filled with junk food and it was always a point for me to prepare healthy meals when I cooked. It wasn't often, but I did eat well enough to keep my body in good order. Now, he comes by with baggys of mixed nuts, different grapes or fruits he knows I like. Encouraging me to taste new foods, pears and beetroots for example. I receive yogurts that are said to be low on fats and high in proteins, often mixed with various chopped fruits, or nuts. Mark even makes, or buys, smoothies for me; kale, spinach, watermelon. They are shockingly good and I learned how I prepare some of my favorites at home to save him the trouble, and money. I drink one every day, either in the mornings when time is available or at lunch, buying them or waiting for Mark to bring one. I do feel much better, noticing I fall asleep easier and have more energy during the day.

Going to bed at earlier hours, as Mark suggests and pushes firmly, has been a noticeable help as well. I sleep soundly and, depending on if I'm called in by Paul, for much longer. Getting up is easier when my phone goes off, waking with energy and ready to start the day faster. I appreciate Mark encouraging these new habits and telling him this, grins with long kisses. We both can see a difference from when we had met each other, my skin is clearer, black hair is shinier and thicker, energy is higher and my moods have been better. I feel healthier and that makes me want to continue the new slight changes to my diet, my sleep. Mark praises me for continuing these things without him, buying more fruits, vegetables and ingredients for smoothies at the store. Filling my fridge with yogurts and healthy frozen sweets, trying new ice creams and similar items.

We had a conversation about things we're both interested in, sexual activities. I wasn't shocked to learn he was a dominant in BDSM, his actions and gestures towards me made me question whether he was or not. He grinned upon learning I was a submissive, I had kept one of my favorite kinks to myself for now. Figuring I would wait until we were together for longer, with more knowledge and trust for each other, until I told him what I enjoy the most. I requested we wait to bring in that aspect of our relationship, wanting to date vanilla and get a much better vibe of how well we will be together. Mark agreed readily, reassuring me with a tight hug and a lingering kiss that we'd wait until I felt we were ready. My interest isn't anything overly odd, it's not extreme as some people go and I don't consider it sexual during certain scenes.

Petplay is a variety of ideas and themes, there's no one way to participate in it. The only main, important rules are consent, trust and paying attention for signals to stop when it gets too much. Which animal someone plays as is personal preference, how far they go with it and how extreme they go is the same as well. I know friends overseas on the internet that have certain bathroom limits, a handful prefer going the extra mile for their roleplay; pee pads, litter boxes, diapers. It's entirely up to the couple and diverse. Personally, I don't feel comfortable with bathroom play in any type of way. When I go into a Headspace alone, I make certain to prepare myself. I don't have pads, diapers or litter boxes, nothing similar. Instead, I wait or allow the need to bring me out of the space I was in. It doesn't matter at the moment, considering I'll explain to Mark in detail what I roleplay as and what usually happens during, when that time comes. For now, I'll simply enjoy the rare time I have to indulge in a session alone.

Mark is in the front with Paul, visible from the short hallway the embalming room is located at. It's away from any clients that come in, allowing them to sit in the comfortable front room with the illusion there's no corpses near them. The entrance has Paul's desk in it, as small of a building this is offices are mixed within rooms. My office is in the embalming room, where I can file reports on the deceased easily. Pauls is where people come in to plan out a cremation or tiny service, often we'll be asked to deliver a body to a funeral that wasn't connected to a funeral home. It has a large oak desk at the far end of the space, across from the double doors. Comfy, soft, white chairs sit in front of it with a large sofa off the to side for whoever is in the group. There's flower vases on little shelves equally spaced on the light, off white, gray walls. Pictures of calming scenes hang, a waterfall in a forest, animals sleeping or a cabin surrounded by wilderness. Natural light flows inside from the glass doors and the large window behind Paul's desk, allowing sun in and brightening the space.

The two men had turned when Mark raised his voice to greet me, Paul clenching papers in his hand as he gave me a strained smile. It is difficult to not notice the discomfort my boss feels around Mark, I'm not entirely certain why that is. They had worked together before Mark and I met, although I imagine it may be awkward to work with the man when he's dating an employee. I'm confident Mark says vulgar things purely to see how awkward Paul will get, that's just the kind of man he is, always messing around. I find it amusing, he has a kind of humor that is curse heavy and often slightly dark. Paul, evidently, isn't accustomed to being around Mark for so long and always leaves the room as quickly as possible.

"Hi, Mark! Are we still on for lunch?" I'm brought into his arms as I ask this, close enough to allow him to wrap his long arm around my waist and tug my body closer. He grins, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my pierced lips. The black hoop jewelry for the labret through my bottom lip, is his favorite between it and the Medusa above my top lip. I'm told he can feel it move and the cool metal of it is pleasurable, he kisses me purely for that alone.

"Of fucking course we are, Sweet Thing!" He said this while tugging me closer, curling both arms around me and sliding a hand in the back pocket of my midnight black shorts. "I gotta make sure you're not gonna be on that damn table next time I come over."

He gestures to the door I just came from and I laugh, nudging his side with a gentle knuckle at his ridiculousness. "I'm not gonna die from missing one lunch!"

I gain an uncertain sound from my boyfriend's throat, head tilting as the grin widens. Husky voice in my ear, "You never know, could happen. I let you miss it one time and we're seeing you on the fuckin table."

My light hazel eyes roll a smile on my lips, yet Paul speaks before I can respond. Stealing my attention from Mark for a moment, my boss is eyeing our close proximity and wincing through a smile at the sight of Mark's hands on me. His voice is strained, quick. "I'll take over on reports and handle the body Mark brought. You just... enjoy yourself and take your time."

"Are you sure? We can just grab a quick bite and I can come to help more." My offer receives Mark pulling me toward the door with a scoffing sound and Paul firmly refusing, shaking his head.

"No, Paige, you go relax and I'll take over. It'd be good for me, anyway." He waves and I barely get a chance to return the gesture before the doors open to allow Mark to guide me outside.

My boyfriend had parked his car at the front of the building, directly by the doors. I can see the hearse off to the side of the parking lot to be out of the way, next to a cluster of trees. It's too long to be parked in the spaces of the lot, and it's easier to put it further away from customers. The Cameo is just as sparkling as when I first saw it, revealing our reflections as Mark opens the passenger door for me. He gives a dramatic bow as I pass him to climb in, the goofy act earns a light giggle from me. Inside it appears like a new car, there is no mess and every surface is cleaned meticulously, the smell is pleasant as well; a mix of an air freshener and Mark's musky cologne. A vibrant green smoothie sits in the cup holder next to an iced coffee that is topped with whipped cream, two straws in it. The driver side door swings open, Mark grinning as he slides in and starts the car, allowing the engine to roar to life. Leaning over, he grips the seat belt and pulls it over me to buckle it then hands me the smoothie. I laugh, finding the actions amusing rather than overbearing or demeaning.

"Drink up, Doll." I'm instructed, the car moving as he puts it in gear and presses down on the pedal.

Taking a sip, I hum at the taste. It's good, never had I thought I'd drink or eat Kale every day or so, but it is a pleasant surprise that I enjoy the earthy and strong taste. This specific smoothie is a combination of fruits, it's sweet and I can pick out green apples as well. My words have a soft huff of a laugh in them as I speak, "Thank you. You don't need to buy these when you come to see me, you know. I can make them at home too."

Dark eyes flick to me, a wide smile on his lips and his hand comes to land on my thigh, finger's picking at the fishnets on my legs. Chuckling deeply, "Ah, honey, I wanna buy them for ya. So shut it and just fuckin drink it."

I laugh, joking with him. "You're so damn rude, don't fucking cuss at me!"

His hand squeezes my thigh, a chortle escaping him. "You fucking love it, I know you do. Shit, every time I open my damn mouth, you squeeze these cute as fuck thighs together." A finger digs into between my thighs and my muscles automatically clench together. "See? Just like that."

"I do not!" My face flushes at the implication of getting turned on by him, with the knowledge that it's true. His cursing isn't the reason though, I find his entire attitude and how he holds himself attractive. It makes my blood run in the best ways at his confidence and, at certain moments, dominance over a situation. Wiggling my legs I try to move his hand uselessly, Mark only laughs and tightens his grasp.

"You don't?" It's a sarcastic question, mischievous. "Then why the hell are you all blushing and wiggling, like a horny fuckin kitten? You lying to me, Hun? Cause I don't like liars."

An uncontrollable, flustered giggle comes from my throat as I push his hand from between my thighs. Trying to change the subject to calm my body down, reminding myself I still need to work after this. "Mark! Shut up! I don't wanna crash because you're a raunchy bastard!"

He smirks, chuckling with a joking eye roll. "Fuckin fine. Tell me about your damn day, Darlin."

Happy with the changed topic, I tell him mild details about my day. Avoiding going into detail about the deceased I worked on, giving enough information to keep the conversation light and respectful of the limits I set for myself. No giving the names of the corpse I mention, only certain aspects of what I found on their body that sparked a light interest when spotted. A cluster of freckles in an odd spot, their eyes, a curious scar or unnatural mark on the surface. Speaking of how they died if asked by Mark, merely answering with a natural death and unnatural death. I dislike the thought of working on someone who was murdered. It's not necessarily the thought of me doing their embalming, in fact I like the idea of helping clean them up, give them the modesty and dignity they had while living. The family also gets to see them how they will be remembered, clean up and presentable, instead of bloody and in police reports. It's the mere knowledge that another human took the life of the deceased on my table, that someone had the audacity to remove a soul of this earth too early. It bothers me, greatly. However, I can't control people and make the horrible parts of them good. Instead, I clean up the mess they made.

Mark listens attentively, asking curious questions about the process of embalming and the chemicals included. I always take pleasure in educating others, especially when it's about my passion and people rarely ask because they find it off-putting to work with the dead. Spending some time explaining what exactly I do, when to do it, and what I use. He doesn't appear bothered, nodding along and making comments that encourage me to continue. It shocks me he is so interested in my job, I hadn't expected to meet someone that treated this occupation as a regular job. Most of the time, when told I work in a Mortuary there are various reactions of surprise, slight disgust, or obvious discomfort.

We have a jokingly teasing conversation on the way to our destination, a cute diner that promotes vegetarian and fresh ingredients on their menu. I finished the smoothie, putting the empty cup in the trash container Mark has in the back seat. Stealing sips of the iced coffee afterward, my boyfriend playfully whined about it but allowed me to use the second straw in the cup. Asking about his day receives a short rant about how stupid people can be, complaining a client of his wasn't clear on what they wanted. He had to do more work than needed for a supposedly simple job because of the miscommunication on the person's part, mentioning the only upside is that he had got more pay from it. This makes me realize, I hadn't thought to ask what he does for a living. I assumed he worked alongside Funeral Homes that had no space or staff to handle the new deceased that come in, he delivers them so often to the Mortuary it seems possible.

Once we park at the diner, in a corner away from other vehicles to avoid someone scratching up the paint, Mark jumps out to come over and open my door for me. I shake my head at the insistence, enjoying the action even if it's unneeded. He takes my hand and guides me inside, pulling the glass door open and letting me step in first. Looking over my shoulder, I smirk and laugh at the sight of his eyes on my ass. Slapping at his arm to get him to lift his eyes, he merely chuckles and curls his arm over my shoulders, tugging my body into his side as he kisses my temple. A young man, a few years younger than me, greets us with a grin and a stack of menus. He's polite as he guides us to a two-seat table in a corner by a large window, settling the menus down and giving each of us a kind smile before saying he'll give us time to look through the options.

It's quaint, a cozy little house turned diner off on the edge of town. Dark hardwood floors contrast wonderfully with the large amount of natural light that shines in from the wide, wall-length windows that must have been added when the owners bought the property. There are round tables and small booths scattered about, along the windows and a long, dark oak counter to order from. They have chalkboards on the wall behind the counter, and in front of the door that reveals handwritten specials and limited-time options. The hanging lights are in cute balloon lamps, round and giving the illusion that they're made with thin tree branches. The back porch had been extended to support the added tables and booths under the roof, fairy lights hanging from the wood. I love the atmosphere, welcoming and open as it is. The menu is simple, easy to read, and locate certain options.

Upon seeing a new berry smoothie, the description says it is made with fresh blue and blackberries, bananas, yogurt, and non-dairy milk, as well as agave syrup. I decided to try it, thinking it could be something new and if it's good, I may drive here for lunch more often when I'm able to. Mark goes with a strong black coffee, teasing that I drank all of the sweet iced coffee he had bought. As we wait, I ask a curious question, folding his fingers and fiddling with his hand for something to do.

"I never thought to ask, but what do you do? For work, I mean. I was thinking you were with a Funeral Home, but the way you spoke, it sounds like you own a business." My assumption earns an amused chuckle, Mark gripping my hand and sliding my sleeve up, tracing the jack-o-lantern tattoo on my wrist.

In a smokey, mysterious, yet soft-spoken voice, he answers with an easy grin. "I'm a Private Investigator, Sweetheart. Clients come to me with an... issue and I find the source of it, then take care of the problem for them. I bring bodies by for a bit of extra money, of which Paulie boy pays me."

"But, why be a take-out service for dead people?" I ask this with a laugh, the thought of him randomly picking up deceased people to deliver them to the Mortuaty is unbelievable and amusing. "Surely there were other ways to get extra money."

He chuckles, shrugging with a bit of tilt of his head, gaze astute and piercing. "Death is an interest of mine. I like to know what happens after a fucker dies, after all, my ass won't live forever and I wanna know where the fuck I could end up. Does that make sense?"

Smiling, I nod to show my understanding. I can relate to that at a point, I don't care where I end up in death. I just find it fascinating how quickly life can end, and I like being the one to take care of the dead. Making them presentable for not only their family but, whatever God or Gods, they will meet. I'm not religious, however, respecting other beliefs is important. Genuine and appealing in the tone I use to voice my agreement. "I'm the same, having an interest in it. That's why I have my job in the first place."

Mark gives a devilish and infectious smile, lifting my hand to kiss my knuckles. "You're fucking perfect for me, Doll. I love it!"