Mama and Daddy’s king-sized bed floated down the Pacific Coast Highway. Mama slept on the left side, Aaron could see, resting on her side with her back to Daddy, a placid expression her smooth, unlined face, with just the suggestion of a smile in the slight upturn of her mouth. Daddy slept on his back, shirtless, the top half of his chest exposed, his mouth wide open, his beard thick, his forearms hairy and thickly muscled. The bed floated forward on the highway just north of Half Moon Bay, climbing a hill toward the rocky precipice and then, just at the top, it stopped in front of a rocking chair. Aunt Wilhelmina sat in the chair, rocking back and forth, knitting a pale blue sweater. She looked at the bed and shook her head, left to right. And then the bed catapulted over the precipice onto the rocks, down the ravine, and crashing into the ocean.
Aaron woke up and sat up in bed. He tasted a bitter bile in the back of his throat. He felt cool waves of air from the open window on his skin. He must’ve been sweating. He felt his palms, cold and clammy. He felt his stomach lurch and ran for the toilet – but no vomit came out.
Ten minutes later, he sat on the edge of the bed, ready to go back to sleep. But he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He put on his robe, went across the hallway, and knocked on the door.
“Jennifer,” he said. “I know you’re in there. Wake up and let me in.”
The door opened and Jennifer, clad in a silk negligee, her eyes half open, her blonde hair a messy tangle and half covering her face, motioned him in.
“Are you wanting to go at it again? We just finished three hours ago.”
“No,” Aaron said. “Nothing like that. I just want to cuddle.”
“Whatever floats your boat, that’s why I’m here.”
He took off his robe and climbed into bed with her. But as soon as she curled into his arms, he became erect and he knew, yes – he’d have to have his way with her before getting that image out of his mind.
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