In the slipper bath, my hair piled up, pinned up away from the water, I stretch out, full length. One hand overhanging the rim of the bath, cradling a glass, I wallow in warm water and foam. Perfumed steam curls around me, fogging mirrors and settling, dew-like, on the bath edge tiles and the battalion of bottles they accommodate.
“Think there"s room for two in there?”
I jolt, then laugh. “Sorry, Master. I didn’t hear you come in. And yes, I think that’s just what they had in mind when they designed this bath.”
He strolls across to stand over me. “I came in quietly. I wanted to watch my beautiful wife for a few moments.” He glances down. “Any left in the bottle?”
“The last inch or so, I think. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass, then join me?” I hold out a hand. “Be with me.”
His who
