When Angela and her husband had viewed the house, the vendors, the McDonalds had gone to great lengths to point out that the bedroom looked small because they had an oversized bed. Of course, the room was small and quite out of proportion to the rest of the house and it seemed to be a small compromise when it offered so much in the way of downstairs accommodation.
Angela was six months pregnant with their third child and she remarked to Mrs McDonald that she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to move to a bigger house than this one. Sure, it needed a little updating, the eighties needed to be exorcised from virtually every room in the house but there was nothing that couldn’t wait until they had enough money. It would be worth stretching themselves, Angela was certain and Derek was about as enthusiastic as Derek could be; he was a bit of devil when it came to expressing himself.
Within a year of moving in, Angela was pregnant again and they vowed that this would be the last child on the grounds that the bedrooms would be full. Angela and Derek’s bedroom felt hot. It felt so hot that Angela couldn’t bear to brush against Derek’s legs in the night and she would spend the entire night sliding her calves to a fresh, cool spot on the sheets but in their standard double bed, these were limited.
With Derek’s annual bonus they invested in a superking sized bed and it was heavenly. A vast expanse of cool, white, cotton rippled and fanned Angela’s thighs as she spread her arms and legs like an angel spreading her wings. Derek took to sleeping downstairs in front of the fire and within another year they had gone through a really hellish divorce.