A Good Mattress

The marriage was falling apart. Loralee sensed it, but she didn’t know it with the depth of factual knowledge many of their friends had. “Hubby” wasn’t home much. He had other “interests.” Loralee hadn’t let herself look directly at Hubby’s absences, his late nights, the fact they never shared a bed. She just drifted.

Then, it seemed out of no where, she caught the eye of one of their friends — Mike, very tall, thin, blonde hair to his waist, pale blue eyes, younger by fifteen years. He was so interesting and so beautiful!  She felt like Mrs. Robinson, but she wasn’t, not at all, not in real life and not in his eyes.

They had a few dinners together, dinners filled with amazing conversations. They began writing long letters to each other, though they lived in the same town. They took her dogs to the beach at night. A led to B and B led to C and then came the evening when they were grateful for the 1960s travel trailer parked in her driveway.

“Where’s Hubby?” asked Mike.

“No idea,” sighed Loralee.

“Will he be home soon? Will he look in here?”

“I don’t know when he’ll be home. And he won’t look in here. He’ll go right in the house to bed.”

“Will he expect you to be there?”

“Are you kidding? We haven’t shared a bed in I don’t know how long.”


“Yeah. I don’t think he likes me, actually.”

“Wow. Why not?”

Loralee sighed. “If I knew the answer to that I’d…” she stopped. She didn’t know what she’d do, think, feel. “It doesn’t matter. I sleep better alone anyway.”

“Me too,” said Mike. “C’mere.”

Then ensued the redundant always-new coupling of humans and resulting, this time for Loralee, in feelings of completion and peace.

“Wow,” said Mike. “Older women! No, not women. YOU!”

Loralee just shrugged inside. She was and that was all there was to it.

They heard a car door slam in the street in front of the house. Each was silently grateful that Loralee had driven that evening and parked in the driveway, and Mike’s car was not in front of the house.

“Oh my god,” said Mike. “What’s going to happen? I don’t like the way he treats you, but I don’t want to be caught, either.”

“Shhh,” said Loralee. “I think he’d find it a relief to discover me with you. He’d be off the hook,” she whispered.

They heard the front door of the house open and close.

“You’re going to have to take me home,” whispered Mike. “What if he comes back out and sees your car is gone?”

“Oh well,” whispered Loralee. “I guess it’s my car.”

“You sure he won’t look for you? You guys have separate bedrooms?”

“Yeah. He won’t look for me, believe me. He said sex with me was boring.”

“My God. That’s cold.”

“And unforgettable.”

“I’m sorry, Loralee. It isn’t true, by the way.”

Loralee melted. “Oh Mike, thank you. I think I should take you home, yeah?”

“I can’t spend the night here. I have work tomorrow.”


The pulled on their clothes. Very quietly, they got out of the trailer and got to Loralee’s car.

“He’ll hear the car start!” said Mike.

“No. His room is in the back. Besides, cars start on the street all the time.”

“I never thought I’d get into it with a married woman.”

Loralee spun a U-ee, silently wondering, how she had become a married woman, 40 years old, in such a situation as this.



14 thoughts on “A Good Mattress

  1. Wait until he discovers she’s really undercover in the CIA. Under that bed are guns, fake IDs and a pile of Euros … oh, wait. maybe I’m in the wrong story. Still … another identity would be very cool. I’ve been waiting my whole life for WITSEC to take us in …

Comments are closed.