Expertly she ripped the foil and sprung the wire from around the cork.
The cork popped and the champagne flowed over her fingers.
"You forgot the glasses," he said, watching her.
"Don't be silly. Only fools drink this stuff.
This is for the tub. It's better than bubble bath." She began to empty the bottle into the water around him.
The wine fizzed and tickled his skin with a refreshing sensation.
She put the empty bottle on the floor and took a cigarette box from the cabinet.
Opening it, she took out a cigarette and lit it.
He smelled the dull, acrid pungency of marijuana.
She dragged once on the cigarette and held it toward him.
"Here," she said. "Two puffs. No more."
He shook his head.
"No, thanks. I don't go for that stuff."
"Don't give me a hard time," she said. "I only want to slow you down a little."
He took the cigarette from her hand and gingerly put it between his lips. He drew on it.
The smoke went down deep inside him. There was no need for him to blow it out. His body had soaked it up like a sponge.
He looked down at himself in wonder.
Suddenly he felt so buoyant. His body was so clean and strong.
He looked up at her as she stepped into the tub.
He dragged on the cigarette again. He could feel himself floating lightly in the water.
"That's enough." She took the cigarette from his lips and tossed it into the bowl.
"This is crazy," he said, smiling, as she stretched out in the water beside him.
"It had better be," she said, lowering her head to his chest, where he lay covered with a shallow layer of water.
He gave a start of surprise as he felt her teeth scrape lightly across his breast. She raised her head, smiling as she looked at him. "It had better be," she repeated. "That bottle of champagne cost me twenty bucks."
He never knew exactly when the idea came to him.
It was probably while he was asleep. But it didn't matter.
It was there when he came down to breakfast that morning.
And he had the confidence that came with the success of many such ideas in the past. She looked up from the dining-room table when she heard the sound of his feet on the staircase.
"Good morning, Mr. Bonner.
Hungry?"
He returned her smile with appreciation.
"Starved," he said, surprising himself.
It had been a long time since he'd felt like eating a good breakfast. Juice and coffee was his usual routine.
He saw her foot move as she pressed a button on the floor under the table.
A chime echoed from the kitchen in the back of the house.
"Drink your juice," she said. "Your breakfast will be out in a minute."
He sat down opposite her and lifted the large glass of tomato juice out of the ice in which it had been resting.
"Cheers."
He looked at her with approval.
In the clear light of morning, there wasn't a trace of a line on her face. Her eyes were clear and dark and there was only a light touch of color on her lips. Her pale-brown hair was secured neatly behind her head in a pony tail.
Her arms were tan against her white, short-sleeved sport blouse, which was tucked neatly, almost primly, into a casually tailored, gored skirt.
The door behind her opened and a heavy-set Mexican woman waddled in carrying a large tray, the contents of which she transferred to the huge Lazy Susan in the center of the table.
Then she deftly removed the empty glass from in front of him and replaced it with a large dinner plate.
"Cafe, un momento," she said quickly and vanished.
"Help yourself, Mr. Bonner," Jennie said. "You'll find ham, bacon, steak, kippers and kidneys on the plates with the green covers. There are fried eggs, scrambled eggs and French fries under the yellow covers."
He spun the Lazy Susan until he found the ham and served himself.
As he filled his plate, the Mexican woman came back with a pot of coffee and hot rolls and toast.
He looked down at his plate.
The ham was just the way he liked it.
Jennie was helping herself to a generous portion of steak.