The bed is perfect for this sort of thing, they’d been told. California King, the biggest of the big. “Big enough for whatever you two have in mind,” the salesman said. Four thick, solid oak bedposts, floor to ceiling, secured the frame in space. The sheets were minimal but luxurious, as were the pillows. Nothing meant to distract, everything to serve a purpose. On each bedpost was secured a series of solid steel rings, in a column of ten from floor to ceiling. Thick curtains could be drawn over the entire sleeping area, if desired. The bed was, in fact, the main reason they picked this particular spot. And it had afforded them a most luxurious, deeply fulfilling sleep.
He was still asleep when she woke. The room was still but for the dust motes dancing in the early morning light, and the rise and fall of his chest. They’d started the night in each other’s arms, but in the huge bed their sleeping forms must have drifted away from each other. He was on his back, arms wide, sheet tangled and kicked away. She could see all of him. It was a novelty to look at him undisturbed. So often, because they were sneaking around, they made frantic love half dressed or in dark corners. It was heaven to be able to watch him now with no concern of the time or who might stumble in.