A Squeaky Bed At Sixty.
It was a marriage emergency…
My husband and I hadn’t seen each other for a while and it was time for some serious fumbling.
We live separately which has its quirks, never arguing over the remote or the state of the toilet seat being two, the other being sleeping alone to the point when you're gagging for it and a pillow just doesn’t cut it anymore.
And Gagging for it has many great advantages too…
One being a certain pep in your step and the other being that you don’t need to shave your legs until required, which in itself isn’t nothing special until it becomes part of your I’ll be getting a “seeing to” soon routine. Then shaving your legs becomes part of the delicious routine of choosing underwear that, although comfortable must be rip of-able in the dark.
We ended up next door to a dorm of backpackers, in tiny double room loosely called “en suite’.
With paper thin walls, that couldn’t hide a cough let alone a belch, a window that collected ice (on the inside,) a toilet that took a century to fill once flushed, and one of those annoying fans that took ages to switch off, it was not romantic and yet, it brought back memories…
The bed was a flimsy affair with a whisper of a blanket, pillows that were as much good as an envelope and a quick-sand mattress that sucked my body into a hole.
We did think of complaining but it was late, there was nowhere else to go, and I had opened my “buy one get one free” Australian “she a beaut” wine.
Under the flickering light of the off-license, we tucked into an “I think it’s chicken “ curry…
A faint whiff of spice-filled the room.
I slid a pakora between my lips.
He looked into my eyes…
“You want that?’ he said, gesturing at a way to floppy poppadum as a toilet flushed, somewhere in the distance, followed by a juvenile giggle.
Suddenly I was taken back to the days of teenage feelings…
Those days of innocence when you were not sure what a penis looked like as the only one you had seen was your Uncle Johnnie’s when he was peeing outside, (which had weirdly turned from a nightmare into something else that you told nobody about.)
Illegal, “you will remain a virgin while living under my roof “fumbling’s, and cries of “that’s what a penis looks like?"
Teenage snogging parties-seventies style...
Contortionist groping in tight jeans and cars or if you were lucky a bed and you had twenty minutes and a mountain of teenagers loitering outside, high on Bacardi and coke with supposedly no idea what you were doing.
Hubby made his move I prepared for the landing of a juggernaut…
Squeak…Squeak… squeak, squeak, squeak…
The whole floor could hear us….
Squeak…Squeeeeeek…
Shhhh …
Giggle…
“Flush the toilet, that'll give us ten minutes of noise cover.” I hissed.
As the fan reeved into action so did the juggernaut and under the soothing tones of a filling toilet, I was transported back to the days of silent snogging.
I used to think great sex was all about fine wine, dim lighting, and good denture grip, but now I realize there are better/cheaper, down and dirty ways that not only brought back memories but could arouse the second rising of a souffle.
With hushed giggles we made out like teenagers and before I could find the lubricate it was over. The juggernaut was quick, uncomfortable and yet; strangely fun.
“There's a lot to be said about laughing sex,” I said to my hubby.
He drained his wine and with an expert toss of his empty polystyrene cup laughed.
“Shall we do it again?’
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I said, racing to the toilet for another flush.
Discomfort it seems is as good as Viagra and way cheaper-even with a curry thrown in.
Kerrie Noor Is A Comedy, Romance & Sci-Fi Author based in Scotland. Explore her recent work on Amazon or contact her for more information