The bed looks cold and uninviting. And yet, her body tingles.
She longs to shed her layers.
She turns to close the curtains before she faces her bed again. It’s still empty, void of possibility.
But it beckons.
She steps closer to reach for the device attached to its long cable. It has settings, from zero to twenty.
Warmth, she thinks. I’ll warm up the bed before I get in.
The electric blanket is a clever invention for people who live in the cold climes of the First World. A little luxury. She turns it up to twenty.
Below her pillow lays folded her tshirt. The one she sleeps in, usually. It’s long and covers her curves, but not so long to impede her while sleeping. Or playing.
Just long enough.
She picks it up and tosses it in the laundry basket inside her closet.
Tonight, she wants to sleep uninhibited. Free from interfering cloth and thread.
In summer, when heat and humidity abounds, nudity isn’t a conscious effort. It just happens.
Shedding the garments feels freeing.
But not so in winter.
She likes the room temperature to be warm, but not hot, for sleeping which is why she obtained the electric blanket. To keep her body warm, but the air she breathes pleasantly cool.
The bed looks inviting now. She imagines her skin, covered with goosebumps and anticipation, caressed by the warmth of the pre-warmed sheets.
Time to shed her clothes.
Slowly she removes each article, one at a time. Before long, she witnesses her reflection in the adjacent mirror, the one on the sliding door of her closet.
She turns to face her profile.
I like myself, she says out loud to her reflection. I see the curves, the flesh, even the bubbles. I accept them. They are not flaws.
Her hands begin to touch; first on top, along the globes of flesh with their provocative protrusions. Hard, she thinks. My nipples are hard.
Her hands continue to glide along the soft curves of her waist, and hips. She turns again to check her reflection.
There is no hair at her junction. She can see everything. All the folds and all the crevices.
The goosebumps make her cold now. Uncomfortable. Quickly, she slips between the sheets.
Soothing, the warmth, she thinks to herself as she continues to glide her hands down toward the moisture between her thighs.