Friday 30 December 2022

The Mattress’ Story by Alvaro Lp Rossi Costa medium cafe latte


The Mattress’ Story.

They have taken great care and time building me: and at last, I am finished. Someone then attaches a label reading Super De Luxe Mattress, placed me in a large, thick polythene container, then into a storeroom with other mattresses. Some days later, I and several others, are placed carefully in a large van and delivered to a palatial hotel in London’s west end. I am then taken to room 101, where I am released from my wrapping and placed, with some care, on top of a large bed. After that I am smothered in a protective cover, thick creamy white sheets are then placed on top of that and finally an extra thick duvet completes my dressing. Now it is time to see who will be the first to sample just how comfortable I am.

A day or two later a young couple are shown into room 101. The young man appears to be rather handsome and well built. The young woman, who is exceptionally pretty, clings to him as though scared to let him go. When she finally does, both test the bed to discover how comfortable it is. Neither is disappointed – it is all, and more, that they hoped for. Within minutes they are undressed and head for the shower room, where I first hear the constant flow of water, followed a moment later by quiet shrieks of laughter, then sighs of pleasure and joy. Emerging ten minutes later, sparkling clean and garbed in nightwear: the man in nothing more than a pair of silk shorts and the young woman wearing a nightdress that reveals more than it covers. Within seconds my innards are making their maiden voyage. The couple are all over each other. It is as if they can simply not get enough of each other. First, he is rolling on top of her, then they swap, she is rubbing herself all over him, causing each to emit sustained moans of pleasure. This lasts about twenty minutes, then I am conscious of the eager groom pressing himself inside the delectable young woman. Immediately under them the crisp, clean sheets feel slightly damp, followed by a sigh of intense pleasure. They then lie quietly side by side, falling into a deep, peaceful sleep. Both wake some hours later and proceed to make love once more, but this time, without the same intensity as the night before. An hour or two later the lovers rise, shower, dress and go to breakfast. While they are there, the chambermaids come in to tidy the room and make the bed. Seeing the rumpled state of the sheets, as well as the staining on them, both girls giggle, nudge each other, then, when they manage to catch their breath, gasp that they must have had a great time last night, adding I wonder if they actually got any sleep. Having managed to finally settle down, they change the sheets, make the bed, then tuck the respective nightwear under the pillows, though not before, with yet more giggles, examining the young bride’s nightdress. As they exit the room, both, with a knowing eye, comment that it leaves very little to the imagination. Anthony and June, our newlyweds, have a splendid day out, enjoying the simple notion of being married and no longer having to consider parental approval or not. Exhilarated by their first full day as husband and wife, they decide on an early night. And sleep is not exactly on their minds. Night two is pretty much a rerun of night one, as are the following five nights. Over those nights, they have become better acquainted with the geography on each other’s body and quickly learned how best to excite and arouse each other. The week has proved to be a masterclass in the art of love making. 

A few days later an older, distinguished looking couple enter the room, survey it, and in time honoured fashion test the mattress, finding it satisfactory. They compare it, favourably, to the room and bed they spent their first night in. That was twenty-five years ago to the day. And it has been a good twenty-five years. Yes, there have been a few downs as well as ups, but that is life. Few, if any, get away without of the latter. Bert and Jane had already dined and start to get ready for bed. She gets undressed first and headed, by herself, for the shower. Some twenty minutes later she emerges, glowing and radiant in a midcalf nightdress that shows off to good effect, her still impressive, youthful figure, despite being only about three years short of her half century. All those hours in the gym have seen to that. Over the quarter of a century since their marriage, Bert still relishes bedtime, when he can continue to think of himself as the luckiest man on earth, for having married such a beauty, who for reasons best known to herself, continues to love him and is still willing to make love to him on a regular basis. Had he ever asked her, she would gladly have told him: they had been at primary school together and almost from the moment she laid eyes on him, she made up her mind that he was the boy for her. To her he was by far the best-looking lad in the class, and when she got to know him, she discovered that he was kind and decent. In their teens, they started to go steady. They spent time at each other’s homes studying, then at University both worked hard for their respective degrees. They were married shortly after, soon started a family, who were now grown-up with families of their own. She hurried Bert into the shower, urging him not to be long, as she draped herself on top of the bed, in a pose, which from practice and experience, she knew he could not resist. Half an hour later they were wrapped in each other’s arms, doing those things to each other calculated to best excite and arouse. An hour later, fully sated and agreeably tired both drifted into a peaceful, restful sleep. It had been one of the best nights of their married life, better even than their first night, when both had felt shy and inexperienced. Over the next few years, they embarked on a most agreeable apprenticeship in the art of lovemaking. The simple fact that they were here and now celebrating their silver wedding anniversary was testament to that.

Several days passed before more guests booked the room. When it is, they cannot truly be described as a couple. They are aged around forty something, not disagreeable in appearance, but decidedly so in manner. They speak only when it was absolutely essential, and there was no physical contact between them: no holding hands, no kissing, not even a hint of a smile. It is late, so they got ready for bed. The lady retires fully dressed to take her shower, reappearing after about fifteen minutes, wearing a most unflattering nightdress, which covers her from neck almost to her toes. She climbed into bed, lying as close to the edge as possible. The gentleman then takes his turn to shower, emerging shortly in thick pyjamas, that likewise covered every inch of flesh. He too clings to the other edge of the large bed, leaving a gap of at least a foot between them. They bid each other a perfunctory goodnight, roll over and go to sleep. It is some years since they last made love, or at least anything that could be graced by that name. Almost right from day one, their marriage had not been a happy affair. For a variety of reasons, it was not possible to put an end to it and look elsewhere for true love and happiness. Despite this both had come to realise that they must just make the best of it and go on till the end. They had come to this hotel some years earlier, before things took a turn for the even worse, hoping that a return visit might rekindle at least a small spark of affection and hope. But it is not to be. Both are miserable, hoping at least to get a good night’s sleep, before returning to their semi-detached lives, next day. Even as they sleep I can  sense the tension in their bodies. I did my best to provide such comfort and rest for the poor souls as I could. However, I was not sorry when the door closed behind them in the morning.

What had transpired in those first weeks was, by and large to form the pattern of my existence over the years – some good, some not so good, and others down-right bad. Then twenty-five years later, a happy couple aged around fifty deposited their case on me, passionately embraced, rapidly undressed, then fell on top of each other under the new luxuriant duvet and proceeded to make genuine, sincere love. There was something familiar about them. It took some moments to register, then it dawned on me. Anthony and June, the newlyweds from my first day here. I am overjoyed to see and feel them bouncing about on top of me, as though this was their first night together. Over the years I have seen and heard much in this room. I have been the guest to happy couples and, sadly, to all too many unhappy couples. But I am especially happy to see them, still together and still as much in love as in those first days. God bless them and good luck to them. May the next twenty-five years and perhaps more, see them still as much in love as they are at this moment.  


About the author 



Alvaro has passion for reading and writing. He has had two novels published. Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc

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