One morning last week I was trying to think of a story to write when I heard a car pulling into the driveway. I looked out the window and was surprised to see my dad getting out of a little powder blue Volkswagen. A queen-size mattress was on the roof.

I was about to ask my dad what was with the VW. I remembered him telling me years ago that he wouldn’t drive a Volkswagen if hell froze over. But before I could say anything, my dad, abrupt and down-to-earth as ever, said, “Give me a hand with this.”

Together we man-handled the mattress into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom. Laura and I had had the same mattress for our entire married life, and no question we were overdue for a new one, but this one my dad had brought over wasn’t exactly new, though it looked clean enough. We wrestled the trusty old mattress down the stairs and out to the blue VW and hoisted it up onto the roof. The old mattress was heavier than the new one, but we got the job done. “Want some coffee or a bagel or something?” I asked him, but he just shook his head and waved his hand and got in the car and puttered off, puffs of mild blue smoke pluming behind.

I went back upstairs and gathered the stripped-off bedding and put it in the washing machine. The rest of the morning was pretty normal. When the sheets were dry, I took them back upstairs. I was about to put them on the bed when I noticed a match lying on the mattress, more or less in the center, a little bit on Laura’s side. How did that get there? I wondered. But when I tried to pick up the match I discovered it wasn’t really a match at all; it was some kind of imperfection in the top of the mattress. But it looked exactly like a match torn from a matchbook, complete with frail paper stem and a pale, pea-sized match head. Great, I said to myself—Laura has enough trouble sleeping as it is. I debated turning the mattress over, but I thought maybe with the mattress pad and sheets it wouldn’t matter. So I just made up the bed and hoped for the best.

When Laura got home from work, I didn’t tell her about the new mattress. I wanted it to be a surprise. And I wasn’t even sure she’d notice, although I was pretty sure she would. At bedtime I held the cover up for her to slide under, and she said, “Oh, clean sheets! Mmmm. How yummy.” She slipped in beside me and we gathered each other up and fell into a long passionate kiss, which evolved into a long passionate fuck.

It was the best sex we’d had in a long, long time. It wasn’t that we tried a lot of positions or did anything different or unusual. We just fucked. Laura’s cunt was on fire—deeply wet, feverishly hot, beguilingly snug. Every so often she’d wail, “Oh, oh, oh!” and then she’d come—deep, body-wrenching orgasms which left us both limp, except I was still strong inside her embrace, and she wouldn’t let me go. A few minutes later, refreshed, she’d signal me with her hips, and we’d start up again. Sometime deep into the night, I came, too. Maybe that was what Laura was after. She soaked me up. But my orgasm continued long after I was empty of juice. Immense jolts of release, starting in the small of my back and spreading out, rocked my body, slamming me into Laura. She held tight. Just when I thought there couldn’t be any more: another hit, hammering me with pleasure. After eight or nine of these, Laura started laughing. I was too exhausted to laugh. Too steeped in well-being. I fell asleep in her arms.

We awoke still in one-another’s arms. Laura was looking at me, smiling. “I don’t know when I’ve slept so well,” she said.

“Mmm,” I said.

“I can’t wait for tonight,” she said.

“Mmm,” I said.

“Maybe we can get an early start,” she said.

It was late morning before we got up. The bed was a lake. Laura helped me strip off the sheets. “This is a really great mattress,” she said. “Where did you get it?”

“My dad brought it over,” I told her.

“You’re funny,” she said. Her eyes twinkled. She gave me a kiss. When it was over, she said, “Come on, tell me, where did you get it?” She noticed the little imperfection—that frail match. She bent over to touch it. Her bottom was so alluring. I couldn’t resist. “Oh, honey,” she said when I entered her. She caressed the little match head while I fucked her. I didn’t last long. My orgasm triggered hers. We collapsed on the bed.

What seemed like hours later we stirred. A few minutes later Laura was riding me. “We’re gonna wear this mattress out in one day,” she said. She looked happy about that idea. “Seriously, honey, where did you get it? It’s wonderful.”

“My dad...” I started to say.

Laura frowned. “Stop with that. Your dad’s been dead almost three years.”

“I know that,” I said. I could feel the little match head in the small of my back. It felt warm and good.