Victoria had been given so many flowers in her life that she felt like the universe was almost cosmically playing a prank on her by giving her a job that involved flowers. And yet, despite all the flowers she'd received over time from various boyfriends, from family members, from one off dates to random valentines day gifts, she didn't particularly like any of them. Contrary to popular belief, not every woman likes flowers.
"What's your favorite flower?" a client had once asked, when looking through her catalogue for floral arrangements for a funeral. This was a tactic that clients often turned to, asking the mortician themselves what they liked, and she always did the professional thing. She'd smile, and she'd lie.
"I like tulips," she'd say.
But she didn't like tulips. She liked Titan Arum. Nicknamed the corpse flower, it has an incredibly foul smell of rotten flesh when in bloom. This nauseating odour is produced to attract pollinators that love to feed and breed on flesh. Technically they're called Carrion flowers, and these flowers emit a smell similar to rotting flesh. Apart from the scent, carrion flowers often display additional characteristics that contribute to the mimesis of a decaying corpse. These include their specific coloration (red, purple, brown), and flower architecture. Carrion flowers attract mostly scavengers. Some species may trap the temporarily to ensure the gathering and transfer of pollen. And to Victoria Beckham, there was no smell more arousing, more pleasing, more alluring...than that of death.
The stench of decay, something most would shy away from or be outright sickened by, this made her skin goosebump. It made her heart beat faster. It made her breath quicken. This must be how other girls feel when they are aroused, she'd think to herself. For as long as she could remember, she'd never really felt like she'd fit in among the living women she considered friends. In high school, despite being very pretty and thus often asked out, she turned down every single prospective man who approached for two reasons. The first, obviously being that they were men. The second, however, was that they were alive, and nothing made Victoria more disinterested than the warmth of the living. But when she was down in her workshop, beneath the funeral home, preparing bodies...
...that was when she felt the most romantic.
But it hadn't been a natural discovery. She'd, in fact, discovered her drive entirely by accident, and entirely thanks to a literal accident. When Victoria had been 19, she'd been driving home one night from seeing a movie with a friend, and while crossing an empty bridge, she spotted an overturned car. Not completely overturned, it was on its side, but the visual was clear as day, something tragic had befallen this driver. Victoria pulled over to the side of the road, got some change from her glovebox and figured she should find a payphone, do the right thing and report the scene. But as she started to walk away, that's when the smell hit her. Faint, because they hadn't been dead long, but enticing all the same. She turned and slowly walked back towards the car, kneeling as she approached. When she got close enough to the ground, she saw a young woman, probably mid twenties, lying in what was once considered the drivers seat.
Remarkably, despite the gruesomeness of the accident, she wasn't a mess. In fact, as it turns out, the only reason she was dead was because her neck had twisted the wrong way. Otherwise she was almost...pristine. In her light pink halter top and her ripped blue jeans, a necklace hanging precariously from her now disjointed collarbones, she looked...she looked...she looked like the kind of woman Victoria would like. Victoria felt the change rattle in her hand, and she bit her lip. She knew she shouldn't. She felt her fingers unclench the coins and slowly remove itself from her jacket pocket, reaching out towards the womans face, her unmoving eyes staring back at her. Victoria felt herself quiver with a mixture of anticipation and fear, as she felt her fingertips connect with the womans cheek, and she softly petted her face.
And the smell. The smell wasn't stronger, but somehow it had become more intense.
Victoria shut her eyes and just breathed it in as she pet the young womans cold, lifeless face, and then after a few minutes, she heard the sound of tires approaching. She quickly stood back up as an older couple got out of their car, curious as to what was going on. Victoria informed them they needed the police. Nobody ever questioned a thing.
Some women light candles. Victoria Beckham smelled death.
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"That's our best model," Victoria said to the middle aged woman and her husband, standing over a beautiful casket; she continued, "it's lined with black satin, with gold inlay, and is resistant to any and all kind of wear and tear one might imagine a casket would come into contact with."
"Do...do caskets come into contact with a lot?" asked the husband, and Victoria smirked.
"They surprisingly do," she said, hearing the door to the funeral home open, and she turned, expecting to see another customer or a delivery but, instead, was delighted and surprised to find Kylie. She approached cautiously, and lowered her voice, "...hi there. What...what brings you here?"
"Just window shopping," Kylie said, "never too early to make an investment in ones future."
Victoria laughed, which got the attention of the couple behind her, who glared at her. She and Kylie quickly softened their laughter and, taking Kylie by the hand, she led her further away from the showroom. Once in the main front area, Victoria seated herself on a padded bench and then patted it with her hand, insisting Kylie sit beside her, which she did.
"It's nice to see you again," Victoria said, "and thank you again for the help."
"It really wasn't an issue, don't worry," Kylie said, "um...listen, I...I don't normally do this, but-"
"Do you wanna do something after I'm off work?" Victoria asked, interrupting, taking Kylie by surprise, who smiled weakly and nodded in response; Victoria touched her hand and added, "okay, come back in about two hours. I'll be free then. We'll go somewhere."
Kylie exited the funeral home after this brief interaction, her heart beating faster than she'd anticipated. She couldn't believe this. A date? An honest to god date? With a living woman? Wild. And yet, she was nervous as all hell. What would she wear? How would she act? She knew Victoria understood her, in a manner of speaking, but she still couldn't help but feel as though she were making an enormous mistake. She wasn't supposed to interact with the living. That was her one cardinal rule. Well, that, and don't steal a body. Thankfully thusfar she'd lived by both pretty sternly. Kylie went back to her apartment, got herself bathed and then did her best to pick out a seemingly normal outfit. Something plain, but still nice. She wound up going with slacks and a button down blouse with black floral print. As she stood there, staring at herself in the mirror, Kylie couldn't believe what she was doing, or that she was allowing herself to do it.
And by the time she got back to the funeral home to pick up Victoria, she found her in, of all things, a nice little black dress with a white collar, and her hair combed and somewhat styled. She'd even put on some light jewelry. Whereas Kylie had put in the bare minimum of effort, it seemed Victoria had gone to much greater lengths to be visually appealing, and Kylie couldn't deny she liked it. Victoria climbed into Kylie's car, and as she buckled her seatbelt, Kylie reached into the back and pulled out a singular flower, a black rose.
"I...I got you this, I didn't...I don't know if that's appropriate, I barely know you, but-"
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"It's very sweet," Victoria said, taking it from her gently and blushing, "thank you."
"Where...where did you want to go?" Kylie asked.
"...you want to see something really cool?" Victoria asked, and Kylie nodded; Victoria grinned and said, "then drive up to the edge of town, and I'll tell you where to go from there."
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Victoria could remember the first time the urge became overwhelming, dangerous even.
It was during her first actual embalming process, at the mortuary school she was attending. She was doing her first solo embalming, and the corpse just happened to be a woman in her late 30s who had suffered a sudden stroke and dropped dead. It was up to Victoria to make her presentable for the upcoming services, and thankfully she managed to not let her lust get the better of her. She sat on a stool and watched patiently as the blood drained from the womans body, flowing quietly down the steel table and into the catcher at the end. As she watched, Victoria couldn't help but notice just how dark her blood was, how pretty under the soft lighting of the medical lab. Victoria looked back at the womans face, her dark eyebrows and her lips still somewhat pursed in a half smile.
After getting the preserving fluid tube in the right spot, the only part Victoria was still struggling with, she pulled up a stool beside the mortuary table and started to open her makeup kit. This was her favorite part. While she'd enjoyed putting makeup on living girls the few times she'd done it, that level of intimacy was unmatched when it came to putting makeup on dead girls. Halfway through applying the necessities, Victoria sat back and admired the womans face. She smiled and sighed.
"I don't know you," Victoria said quietly to a room full of death, "and maybe you've been told this a million times while you were here, but you're beautiful. Very very beautiful. You have such marvelous facial structure, your jawline is amazing. You're almost perfect. And with my help, we'll get you to that perfection."
Victoria dabbed her sponge into some more cover up and sighed. Grateful she'd taken mortuary cosmetology, but saddened that each session only lasted so long.
"I wish anyone would understand, but they never would," she continued, reaching out and putting her gloved hand on one of the womans cheeks while reaching out with the other hand, almost pressing the sponge to her skin, "and it makes me feel so much more alone in a world that already makes women, let alone queer women, feel alone as it is. I just wish one time one of you would appreciate it, be capable of showing appreciation."
She stopped and slowly stood up from the stool, looking down at the womans nearly done up face. Victoria's eyes glanced over at the makeup kit, and noticed the lipstick, which she hadn't yet applied. She felt her pulse quicken, which disgusted her. She'd never done this before. She knew there were no cameras in here. She knew she was alone. Could she bring herself to do such a thing? She put the sponge down on a nearby metal tray and leaned over the table, looking at the womans unmoving face. And then...then Victoria pressed her lips against the womans lips, and kissed her. It lasted for only a minute or so, but it was the best kiss to this day she'd ever had, partially because she'd refused to ever do it again for fear of being caught.
And after it was over, Victoria seated herself on the stool once more, and finished the job.
Everyone deserves love, she thought, even the dead.
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"Where are we going?" Kylie asked.
They had been driving for a while now, and were approaching the side of town that housed things that tourists often came to. Aquariums, museums, theatres. But Victoria didn't respond to Kylie's inquiry. She kept her mouth shut, a sly smile playing on her lips, and instead let Kylie stew in the uncertainty of their destination. Finally, as they past the childrens learning center, Victoria put her hand up.
"Stop here, park," she said, and Kylie nodded, doing exactly what she was told.
The girls got out of the car, and, Victoria taking her by the hand, headed through the gates of a nearby Botanical Garden. This, Kylie admitted to herself, was not where she expected a mortician to take her, of all places. They walked past some beautiful flower beds and past under some gorgeous willow trees overhead.
"Have you ever smelt death?" Victoria asked, "The act of putrefaction is a process that breaks down the proteins in decaying organic matter. The process is responsible for off-gassing some of the chemical compounds responsible for the foul scent. And while there's nine very specific chemical compounds that the dead body smell originates from, there's two in particular that matter the most, I think. Those would be Putrescine, which is a foul-smelling organic chemical compound that is related to the other important compound, humorously named Cadaverine, which is a foul-smelling diamine compound produced by the putrefaction of animal tissue."
"Cadaverine? Seriously?" Kylie asked, almost laughing.
"I know, I know, it's...it's almost comically absurd, but that's what it's called," Victoria said, trying not to laugh herself; she continued as they headed further into the garden, entering the more exotic plant area now, adding, "but I personally...I love the smell. There's something special about a stench that ninety percent of the general population doesn't get to engage with."
Finally, they stopped, at an enormous green stalked flower with red fringes. Kylie looked from the flower to Victoria, in mild confusion.
"This is the Titan Arum. Generally native to Indonesia's island of Sumatra. It's a little unique, because the plant's full bloom only once, every seven to ten years, and even then the event only lasts 24 to 36 hours. Generally, the flower will open mid-afternoon and stay open all through the night and into the next morning. This makes it extremely hard to be able to actually smell. Thankfully, the stench it produces is not one that I don't access to on the regular, as it smells like rotting flesh."
Victoria, now letting go of Kylie's hand, reached out towards the plant and pressed her palms against its soft green body. She smiled, her large front teeth biting her lower lip, making Kylie squirm, because on one hand she found this extremely endearing and on the other hand disgusted at herself with finding something of beauty within someone of the living persuasion.
"So," Kylie asked, her arms folded as she stepped forward, "why's it smell like that?"
"Well, it's chemical combination is that of dimethyl trisulfide, isovaleric acid, dimethyl disulfide, benzyl alcohol, indole, and trimethylamine. This odor is meant to mimic decomposition in order to attract pollinators, specifically carrion beetles and flesh flies, who are naturally drawn to the smell of decaying meat...when I was 19, I found a woman who'd been in an accident in her car, alone, on a bridge. She was...perfect. She'd just broken her neck, but otherwise perfect. But the smell...that was what attracted me to get as close as I could in the brief window of time I had."
Kylie was, to say the least, shocked that Victoria was telling her something so deeply personal this soon. But, she figured, she could tell they were one and the same, so she nodded and listened, letting Victoria figuratively spill her guts to her.
"Now, when I receive a body to embalm, I wait a day or so before starting the process. That way, when I finally do enter the room to do the job, it's filled to the brim with that stink. That very specific stink. The kind of stink one only gets from giant corpse flowers, or from the recently deceased."
Victoria stopped and glanced over her shoulder at Kylie, who stood deathly still in place, almost scared to move.
"...you're not dead, but you also smell nice," Victoria said quietly, "which is not something I'm used to experiencing."
"I know the feeling," Kylie said, chuckling, "finding myself pulled to someone who's alive is...an unusual emotion."
"That's one way of putting it," Victoria said, reaching out and taking one of Kylie's hands by the wrist, pulling it towards the plant until her palm was placed firmly against it like Victoria's, and their eyes locked; Victoria whispered, "we shouldn't even be touching it, it's technically endangered. But I know you, like me, yearn for the inaccessible."
Kylie nodded, her breath caught in her chest, her eyes widening.
"...and there's none more inaccessible than what we want," Victoria said softly, pulling her hands off the plant and instead putting them on Kylie's hips, turning her to face her; she looked into Kylie's eyes and smiled warmly, but weakly, before asking, "I've kissed plenty of dead girls. But I'm admittedly a tad curious what it's like to kiss an alive one."
"Well," Kylie said, "I'm certainly available for finding out."
Victoria grinned and leaned in, planting her lips on Kylie's, tugging at her hips and pulling her closer. Kylie, after a moment and, much to her own surprise, buried her face into Victoria's neck and breathed her in.
"You smell like..." Kylie started.
"Decay?"
"Mhm."
And she loved it.
Later that evening, after taking Victoria home, Kylie laid on her bed and stared at her ceiling, as she often did before drifting off to sleep. She replayed the scene over and over again in her head, and couldn't believe she'd enjoyed kissing a living girl. A beautiful, pulsating with life, living girl. And someone who understood her on a level she never thought she could be understood on. The odds in her favor were astronomical, and yet they'd aligned just so. She couldn't believe her luck. Kylie rolled onto her side and listened to the train whistle outside her window. She bit her lip as she buried her arm between her legs. There was just one problem with all of it.
She couldn't help but think of how much more she'd like Victoria if she were dead.