It had taken two shampooing’s and scrubbings before I was able to stand myself, though the second one might have been more for Jack’s benefit. He’d brought me a piece of cake and a glass of champagne to eat in the shower. Jack had grown up wealthy—the son of a tobacco farmer—and I’d always imagined that this was how the other half lived—eating chocolate cake in the shower and having a man who looked like my husband pouring cold champagne over my very heated skin. “The cleaning lady is going to be really confused,” I said a little while later. “It’s probably not often she has to clean crumbs out of the drain.” “Think of it as we’re bringing a little excitement to an otherwise monotonous job.” I dried off quickly and ran my fingers through my damp hair, and then I walked naked into the bedroom and fell back on the bed under the ceiling fan. “This is one of those times that’s really confusing to a man,” Jack said, coming in behind me. I took a moment to look my fill.
