Disclaimer: Everyone in the story is 18 years old or older at all points. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is just happenstance.
*
Traffic was horrible, and it seemed to take twice as long to get to the funeral home, but we finally arrived.
"Here you go, ladies," the driver said as he pulled up and stopped in front of the doors.
He held open the door as we exited the car. I caught him looking at my legs as I hurried out, trying to keep the world from knowing I wasn't wearing panties.
He smiled and winked at me. I realized he was attractive, with light blue eyes and sandy blonde hair blowing in the wind, and winked back.
Looking at the group, "I hope everything goes as well as possible. Is there a time you would like me to come back to pick you up?"
"I don't think we know yet. How about you give me your number, and we can call you when we want to leave," Beca said as she played with her hair.
"Down, girl," Debbie told her, giving her a mom look.
Beca stuck out her tongue at Debbie.
"How about I give my number to this one," he said, turning to me.
"Sure, why not," I told him, playing with my hair the way Beca had been doing. The rest of the girls busted out laughing.
I pulled out my phone, and he gave me his number. Looking at his nametag, I put him into my phone.
"Thanks, Ben. I will text you when we are ready," I told him with a smile.
"All right bitches, let's get this over with," Cindy said as we turned, linked arms, and walked inside.
At the door, I glanced back and noticed Ben standing there watching us walk in. I caught his eye and got another wink as he turned and got back into the car.
I shook my head as I turned back around and followed the others inside.
The foyer was elegant, with lots of live plants, giving it the feel of a solarium. I looked around and noticed a few hallways leading off the main room. Each had a notice board with the deceased's name and biographical information.
We walked around the room until we found Mrs. Donaldson halfway.
"I guess this is the place," Beca said, trying to lighten the mood we were all in.
"Yep," Cindy and Debbie said simultaneously, eliciting a smile for all of us.
We walked the short distance to the room where she was presented, talking to old friends along the way until we got to the casket.
I don't know about the rest, but this was where it got real for me. Mrs. Donaldson was really gone.
"She looks peaceful," Debbie said, wiping away some tears.
"I can't believe she is really gone," I said through my tears.
We spent the next few minutes saying our goodbyes to our second mother before walking away to find a seat.
"I will be back in a few minutes. I need to get some air," I told the girls as they sat.
"Want some company?" Beca asked, starting to stand.
"No, I just need a few minutes alone," I told her as I walked away. She was the first person that I was close with who had died. I wanted to walk around and not have to be social with anyone.
My wandering took me back to the main entrance. I walked around, looking at the names of the other people who had services today. I stopped at each to read their biographies.
Most were just older people who had passed, but the last billboard was for a guy in his thirties.
Intrigued, I read his bio.
Clarence Yorance, known to his friends as Uncle Humpty, passed away in his sleep from heart complications.
Uncle Humpty?
I thought, shaking my head.
I was turning away from the hallway leading to his service when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Excuse me. I couldn't help but notice your outfit. Were you, um, one of Uncle Humpy's hoes? Maybe coming to see his cock one last time?"
Enraged, I turned and found myself looking at an elderly black man. He was at least in his seventies, dressed in a three-piece suit. His smile took the sting out of the comment about being a whore.
I decided not to respond as I might usually. "Sorry, sir. No, I am here for another service."
I started to turn away when he stopped me, putting a hand on my shoulder again.
"I was asked to be on the lookout for you. See, he sent a picture."
I glanced at his phone and saw a picture of myself, Beca, Cindy, and Debbie from the hotel lobby.
I started to shake a little. "Who sent you the picture?" I asked, glancing between him and his phone.
"Uncle Humpty's supplier," he asked as his eyes roamed over my body.
I had a terrible feeling about where this was going. "His supplier?"
"Yeah. Humpty started as a pimp, mostly of cheap pussy. You know, runaways, drug addicts, etc. He would sell their services, and when they were used up, he would find new pussy to replace them. Mostly people that no one would miss."
He cleared his throat and moved his hand down to my wrist, pulling me closer to him.
"Anyways, a few years ago, he made a mistake. Humpty got busted selling some important person's daughter or some other nonsense. At the arraignment, a high price lawyer showed up and told the judge he wanted to take the case. Got Humpty released on bail and took him to meet this other guy. The other guy gave Humpty a choice, work for him and get a steady supply of higher-class pussy to sell, or go to prison for 30 years."
The old guy steered me to a dark nook off the hallway that led to Humpty's service. Then, pushing me deeper into the shadows, he released my wrist and started running his hands over my throat and breasts.
I grabbed his hands, holding them away from my body as I tried to push past him. I didn't want to hurt him, but honestly, the only thing I could think of was returning to the relative safety of my friends.