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AUGUST 2012 -
SEXY X2
MAGAZINE -
41
aking up brings with
it the little exercise
of placing ourselves in time and
space. We all do it. It is so natu-
ral and routine that no one thinks
about it, and many have not even
noticed it before.
But it has always been a little diffi-
cult for me. I do not know why, but
I consciously need to incorporate
some facts to know where I am.
The first and the most fundamental
fact is certainly my own bed. I do
not know if it is the best bed in the
world, but for me it is, and I am
sure that everybody believes theirs
- or at least the pillow- is fantastic
and irreplaceable.
My bed has the hallmark of my
wife, Arleen.
In fact, everything that she does
has her personal touch. But where
that can be perceived the most is in
the bed.
I remember when I was single,
entire days went by and my bed
would stay unmade endlessly. Why
was I going to make my bed if I
would disarrange it again a few
hours later? Two weeks could pass
before I changed the sheets - any-
way as the bed remained unmade
all day long, it was aired enough
to be considered, at least for me,
as reasonably clean.
Arleen lets the bed air out for about
two hours every day.
If the temperature is warm enough
so that the house does not freeze,
she opens the windows of our bed-
room. The breeze blows the cur-
tains and creates a perfect picture
with her smile and her good humor
in the morning.
Before putting the sheets on the
bed again, she tightly fits each
edge and each corner of the bot-
tom sheet, as if it were a pagan
rite. Once that is done, she sprays
with an atomizer a delicate per-
fume that she has previously bought
only for this purpose.
It is now the turn of the top sheet,
and again the tension exerted in
each point of its border leaves it
tightly fitted and perfect.
I cannot help admiring this homely
dance that, to my eyes, she per-
forms around our bed every morn-
ing.
The top sheet also receives its share
of perfume, then it is the turn - ac-
cording to the time of year - of the
eventual blankets, to finish with a
bedspread fitted equidistantly so
that none of the sides is longer than
the other.
Lightly scented pillows and several
cushions complete the picture.
How not to love her if I know that
every single detail has her love for
me.
One day, shortly after we got mar-
ried, when I first saw her spraying
perfume on the sheets; surprised I
asked her whether I smelled very
bad, or if something of me both-
ered her.
She had not noticed my presence,
so she got surprised when I spoke,
but I think that it was my question
what surprised her even more. She
blushed for a second and said:
I love the smell of your skin when
I sleep by your side, and the smell
of your hair when my head rests
next to yours. That’s not why I’m
perfuming the sheets. It is because
I want you to find a perfumed bed
every night when you lie down
only in our house. When you have
to be away for a trip and to sleep
in a hotel, you will never find such
scented sheets as the ones which
are waiting for you at our home.
I embraced her by the waist, pulled
her a little closer to me, and laying
her back tenderly down on those
freshly scented sheets, we made
love.
Something is bothering me in my
legs, as if I have a great weight
that prevents me from moving
them. I do not know what it is. It’s
strange.
Let us return to my awakenings.
The second fact to consider has
to do with the need of time place-
ment. It does not have to do with
looking at the watch on my wrist,
not even with looking at the alarm
clock on my bedside table. It is
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