The end of the day is my favorite when I can toss my gloves in the trash and hang the protective clothing cover on the hook to leave the Mortuary. I always leave at sunset, one of the best times of the day. The colors in the sky are beautiful, all pinks, oranges, and purples blending. It's an incredible sight to drive home too, witnessing the sun setting over the horizon. There may be more traffic due to other people getting off work as well, but it's a low price to pay for me. I enjoy driving with music playing, it's a peaceful space within the hearse. Today wasn't busy, a slow, long day. Mark only brought two new deceased throughout my shift, the first early in the morning and then a second in the afternoon. I had spent all my time in the back room, not able to catch Mark when he dropped by since I was in the middle of embalming. He messaged my phone after he left, saying he'll see me later and come over to my apartment to spend time together. We don't see each other outside the mortuary as often as I would prefer, our schedules don't always align. While that is uncontrollable, it'd be great to be together outside of my breaks or the Mortuary.

Mark is always busy with clients or gathering information he requires for work, traveling further than I would think was needed. I'm constantly at work as well, on days off I walk my neighbor's dog and run errands. I'd welcome company during both of those activities, especially with my boyfriend. He makes everything fun, always silly and vulgar. I've invited him to my humble little apartment multiple times, he is welcome to walk inside when I'm aware he's coming. Leaving the unlocked is a pet peeve for him, insisting I should keep it locked until he knocks. Yet it's easier for me to unlock it, and let him come in himself while I clean around or cook. My apartment building is in a decent neighborhood, I trust my neighbors and the security guards at the doors. Mark is good at locking the door as soon as he closes it, instructing me to do the same when he leaves. I'm considering making a copy of the key for him, just to save myself the lecture I receive. The door would stay locked and he'd be able to come in still, he wouldn't need to worry about it. Perhaps it may be too early for that step in our relationship, but I don't mind. I trust Mark and it'd save us both the same, repetitive conversation when he stops by.

The message said he planned to come a few hours after I got off work, giving me enough time to settle home. Take a long, hot shower and cook dinner with a glass of white wine, playing music through a speaker. A perfect way to end a work day. It takes an hour to pull into the large parking garage attached to the apartment building, parking on the third level in a far corner with a perfect amount of space for the length of the hearse. The walk from my car to the elevator is a paranoid one, as always. It's so quiet, damp, and covered in shadows that it heightens the sixth sense of feeling watched. I know it's a low possibility that someone is targeting me, after all, I stand out well, what with the hearse and how I dress. Luckily, Tony is guarded in the elevator, he is one of the building's security guards that rides the elevator to escort people to their floors. He's a very kind older gentleman, in his early fifties with a thick graying beard and hair. I like to tease that he has better hair than I do, it's always thick, styled back, and healthy appearing. While I'm not a big fan of people, I do enjoy having conversations with others and meeting new friends. If someone talks to me, I'll be happy to engage in a little chat with them. Not technology, a social butterfly, but close.

Tony smiles when the elevator doors open, placing a hand in front of them to keep them from closing as I step inside. The deep red of his suit is shiny and pristine, with not a fold in sight. His name tag is clear, visible gold above the chest pocket. His voice is raspy, decades of smoking affecting the voice box. "Good evening, Miss. Paige."

"Hi, Tony. How was your day?" I settle in the corner of the small compartment, watching the doors close and the man press the button to my floor, the fourth, for me.

He shrugs, leaning on the wall as well. "Very boring, not much has happened. How about you? How's Paul?"

Paul and Tony shocked me by being friends, the security guard showing up at the Mortuary on his day off to check on my boss. When we spotted each other it was humorous because we both paused for a moment to process, it was a nice laugh and we all had a conversation for a few minutes. Seeing both men interact reminded me of two kids with crushes in middle school, Paul was adorably awkward and Tony was plain in the interest he has. They had met on chance years ago at a festival, in line for food and someone had pushed Paul on accident into Tony. Afterward, they walked about the festival and exchanged numbers. Now, they speak and hang out when their schedules allow. Yet, Tony still asks about my boss to make sure he's okay, and not overworking himself.

Smiling, I answer honestly. "I think he's okay. It wasn't very busy today, but he seemed a little nervous while we were working together. Maybe something is going on? He's been more anxious lately and won't talk to me about why."

He hums, shaking his head and sighing. "It may be stress. He gets like that sometimes when he works too much. I'll call him later, thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it."

"Of course! Anything to get him to relax a bit, he works so often. I don't think I've seen him take a day off." The elevator dings before we can continue a more in-depth conversation, the ride is quick since my floor isn't that high up.

He smiles as I pass him to step off reassuringly speaking, "Don't worry, I'll set him straight if need be. You have a nice night now."

"You too! Goodnight, Tony!" I grin at him with a light wave as the doors close again, turning to walk the short distance to my apartment door.

My door is the fifth on the right, between two elderly ladies who have a contest of door decorations going on. May, a spunky seventy-nine-year-old, has removable stickers of unicorns, rainbows, and pink glittering animals on hers. While Kate, eighty-one, has hanging signs of flowers and family quotes, and handmade yarn decorations of various animals to compete with May. Both ladies are the sweetest, best friends and have board game nights every Sunday. They're competitive, strongly so. I remember they didn't speak for a week after Kate accused May of cheating in a game of Jenga. I like seeing what is new and what they replace on the doors, thinking it's amusing.

The apartment building is on the nicer side, always clean and neat with great services. The halls are well-lit, either with natural light with windows at the ends of the halls or with bright lights. The tiled floor is sparkling and the long, golden rug along the main stairs and throughout the halls is cleaned each day. The walls don't have dirt or cobwebs on them, painted a light tan and I've seen the janitors cleaning up any marks on them. It's mildly expensive to live here, but it's worth it for the space of my apartment and the state of the building. There haven't been any signs of bad characters since I moved in and the ratings on websites have stayed a consistent five stars. Mark has praised the security, mentioning how he liked that the guards patrol all floors and elevators. Said he was happy I was living here safely, with a kiss added. My unit has two large bedrooms, one bathroom, and a separate kitchen space, with a walk-in closet in the master bedroom, as well as a small laundry space. I have black faux fur rugs scattered about, coffin-shaped and long. Hanging shelves with spider web designs, throw pillows with bats or witchy symbols on my deep black couch. My kitchen is covered in cute Halloween decor, mugs, and utensils of cauldrons or bat-decorated tools.

There are skeleton statues of different animals, skulls, and bones in cases that I have bought. They aren't real, just things I bought online that I enjoyed. Everything in my home is dark, cute, and slightly creepy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my space, it's exactly like the child version of myself would have loved. The first time Mark entered he had looked around, then at me, and said he had finally found the woman he needed in his life. One that loved dark and odd, seemingly creepy or spooky stuff. He had spent a long time merely walking through my home observing everything I had hanging and the decorations. He commented that he could find me real skulls and bones, a simple suggestion that made me incredibly excited and happy. Hugging and kissing him, assuming he had meant he could find an oddities store that sold bones while he traveled or perhaps we could take a small hike into the woods to search for some.

As soon as I open my door, I hang my long cardigan up on the skull hooks above a vintage Victorian entryway table. It has a mirror with a new octopus tentacle carved frame, painted black. Boots and platform shoes sit on a long hearse-designed rug, under the table. Setting my keys and coffin backpack on the table, I slide my combat boots off and make my way to my bedroom to change and gather clothes for after a shower. My room has actual Halloween decorations on the walls, little hanging ghosts, and flimsy signs. It looks like I raided a store on the day of a sale and bought everything Halloween related in stock; which is exactly what happened. Does it look good? Kinda. Will it happen again eventually? Of course. I named the hanging ghosts, as I do with nearly everything. All my furniture is vintage, or I try to buy renovated vintage things. My dresser is also from the Victorian era, large and seemingly fancy with the designs of the wood.

Picking out a pair of cotton shorts that have 'Unholy' written on the butt and a cropped top with skeleton hands on the breast, I move into the bathroom across the hall. As I wait for the water to heat, I brush my thick hair and clean my face of makeup. Using a salt solution and a Q-tip to clean my piercings carefully, getting the lipstick and makeup off them. Jogging out of the room naked when I realize I didn't grab my speaker or phone to play music. I take a long hot shower, listening to a heavy metal and classic rock playlist on shuffle. It feels good to allow my muscles to relax, the steam opening my lungs and skin up. Washing my hair twice, only because I worry chemicals may stick to it, even if it's unlikely as everything I handle is in containers and never spilled.

When I step out, I quickly dry off and get dressed in my pajamas, going back through my room to place my clothes in the hamper and grab my long faux feather robe, black of course. It has fake feathers along the ends of it, and the sleeves as well. It doesn't shed either, which was a concern I had. I saw it and thought I'd treat myself, whenever I wear it, I feel like a queen. It may be extra, but when I'm in my home it's perfectly fine to be extra and treat myself. Letting my damp hair air dry, I make my way to the kitchen with the speaker and my phone. The screen displays a message from Mark, saying he's a few minutes away. As I pass the front door, I unlock it for him.

My wine sits on a cute coffin shelf made specifically for bottled wine. The shelves can hold six bottles and glasses, it has 'witch way to the wine' printed on it. It sits next to the refrigerator on the counter, holding a skeleton hand bottle opener as well. Taking two of the tall, tree-painted glasses off the shelf I grab the bottle of fruity white wine. The glasses have painted tree branches on them, elegant with a black stem that has roots along the base. The branches reach up and around the bowl of the glass, black and thick yet precise and beautiful. I pour myself a glass over ice, leaving the bottle out for when Mark arrives. Deciding to go vegan for dinner tonight and make a cauliflower stir-fry with toasted peanuts, Mark may want some meat with his so I'll prepare grilled chicken to go with it. Gathering the ingredients and starting the broiler for the rice, cutting the cauliflower into florets, and putting it into the oven with everything the recipe says to cook. I hum and dance to the heavy music playing, not caring it isn't necessarily meant to be danced to. Time flies and soon I hear the door opening, Mark's voice flowing over the sound of drums and guitars.

"Darlin, I told you about this damn door!" I roll my eyes at the statement, leaving everything to sit and cook for a moment to meet him at the entrance. He is kicking off his combat boots next to mine, larger and far more worn. Dressed in jeans and a light gray shirt with a leather jacket over it, and his hair is messy from running his fingers through it.

"I just unlocked it for you when I saw your text, it's fine. I trust Tony and the other people to stop someone from breaking in." Even as I say this, he gives me a pointed look while he flips the deadbolt on the door. "Tony has even asked me about you once, making sure I was okay since he hasn't seen you before."

He hums, eyes scanning me and my outfit with a slow, wide twist of his lips into a smile. My waist is gripped, pulled firmly against his torso and I easily curl my arms around his neck, laughing. His voice is thick, husky in my ear. "And what did you tell him, Doll?"

"That he should watch you because you're a dangerous, dangerous man." It's a tease, one that makes him chuckle into the deep kiss he plants on my lips.

When he pulls back, he takes a step back to look over my pajamas and robe again, grinning as he spins me around. The action causes the robe to flutter about my bare legs, the fake fluffy feathers tickling my skin. "Look at you, fucking hell! My dark little princess! I feel like I should fuckin kneel!"

I laugh, letting myself be tugged back into his arms, grasping onto the lapels of his jacket. Kissing the corner of his lips, I play along. "I wouldn't protest to a knee from you."

Mark smirks smugly, leaning close and lowering his voice into a pleasurable rasp. "Honey, the only time I'll kneel is to get me some of your sweet fucking pussy up against a damn wall. Tell me when and I'll drop down so fuckin quick."

Instantly, my face flushes with a deep scarlet blush and I shove his chest softly with a shocked laugh. Exclaimed, "Mark!"

Chuckling, he kisses my cheek and removes the leather jacket to hang up with mine. Curling an arm over my shoulder, he begins to guide me back into the kitchen. "It's the truth! I'd never play with that shit, I'll get up under your skirts anytime!"

"You're horrible!" I giggle, knowing I should be used to this type of response, but it still flusters me how vulgar he is.

"You won't be saying that when I'm in there, Sweetheart." He winks and my eyes roll as I chuckle, shaking my head while pushing away from his side to attend to the food on the stove and oven. I can hear him put ice in a wine glass and pour himself some, then feel him lean against my back to look over my shoulder. "What's for dinner, Bats?"

"Bats?" Turning my head to look at him, confused over the new nickname.

Mark grins, enigmatic and furtive, gesturing to the bat design of the temporary wallpaper on the backsplash of my stove. "You're obsessed with bats and you're cute like a tiny bat, so you're my Bats."

I laugh, relieved he hadn't found the Petplay stash in my room. The animal I roleplay is a Bat, like he had pointed out, I love the animal and relate to them at a point. I have a huge blanket in the shape of bat wings that I curl up in, it has little bands at the ends that I can wear on my wrist. It's similar to having wings on, pretending to fly and wrap up like a hanging bat in a cave. There's also the squishy bat plushie, Salem, I have to keep me company and cuddle with. They're hidden in my closet when I know Mark will be over, not ready to reveal that side of me quite yet or start that kind of relationship. I'm aware he had wandered into my room when he was observing everything the first time he was here, although I hadn't followed him about. Letting him settle his curiosity by himself to fix us snacks for the movie we planned on watching. However, I adore that nickname and am glad he decided to use it.

"I love it! It actually suits me, unlike the Doll and Sweet Thing ones." Giving him a sly smile, he huffs, eyes sparkling and tongue poking out to smooth over his lips.

The one-armed hug he has on me tightens, leaning his head down to press a kiss along my throat. Spoken lowly, "Every name I give you suits you. Trust me, Sugar. I wouldn't call you something you're not. They may be cheesy or whatever, but they're true."

He turns my head away from the stove with a hand on my chin, arm reaching up to rest against my torso as he does. Kissing my lips with a firm passion, lips moist, softly biting my bottom lip before pulling back. "Besides, you love the names. I bet they make you tingly in all right fuckin places."

I push his back with my hip with a chortle, a gleeful broad smile taking over my face. "Go sit down, you horny dog! I don't wanna eat burnt food!"

Chuckling, he listens. Sitting at the island counter and watching as I move about to gather plates and finish the chicken I had on the small portable grill I have. Placed all the meat I slice up on his plate and myself the cauliflower stir fry, pouring us another bit of wine. Mark helps me move the glasses and plates to the living room, turning the tv on and putting it on mute. As we eat, he asks about my day and promises we'll go on more dates when his schedule clears or come over more often. Telling me he has a new client that has a complicated problem and he is needing to spend more time searching for information. I understand and tell him as much, agreeing to him staying the night today so we can have more time together.

Finishing my plate, I notice something on his shirt the closer I look. He had distracted me when I greeted him and throughout the night so far, but now that I just observe him, I can spot the dark splosh on his shirt. The stain stands out, contrasting the shade of grey the fabric is, rather it's a deep, dried ruby, almost black. Directly under the collar of the shirt, a decently big spot that I wonder how distracted I was not to see it. Setting the plate down, I scoot closer and gesture to the spot.

"Is that blood?" It's the first assumption I have, remembering how dark old blood can be from having to clean it off my table at work.

Mark pauses, flicking his eyes down to where my finger points and he nods with a curved eyebrow as if surprised to find it there. Tone honeyed, an amused smile quirking up. "Yea, had a damn bloody nose a few weeks ago. Guess it didn't come out like I thought it did."

Relieved, I laugh. Remembering the time blood stained my pants or underwear during or after periods, and the tools at work. "I can clean it for you, get the stain mostly out. I had to do it often and know a few ways to get blood out."

He grins widely, devilishly. "You offering to get me naked, to be a sweetie and help, or both?"

Humming, I give a dimpled smile and shrug. "Maybe both."

He laughs, smoothly removing his shirt and tossing it at me. "Darlin, you'll have me naked in bed in a few hours, be a patient minx."

"Shut it!" Laughing, I slap him with his shirt as I get up to go scrub the stain. "I'll find you some of my oversized pj's after I put this in the wash, I gotta scrub at it for a while. Make yourself at home."

He smirks, reclining on the couch and finding a movie. "Already ahead of you, Doll. I'll save you a spot!"