Stella climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel round her. She shivered a little. “How long have I got to do this?” she asked. “Don’t you love me any more? Doesn’t it mean anything to you that I’m used like this?”
Gerda went to her, her eyes half closed, knowing that she had got her way, and therefore willing to be kind.
Denny had finished his meal when Stella came out in a light-blue wrap, which suited her. He was mixing some more cocktails, having drunk six in a row, and he felt a lot better tempered. In fact, he greeted Stella with a grin as she came in.
“How are you feeling now?” he asked. “You’re looking grand. Have a gin and du Bonnet. Can you cook yourself a meal? I wish I could, but I’ve never learnt how.”
Stella took a cocktail and began preparing supper. “Don’t you want a bath, Mr. Merlin?” she asked.
Denny shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I guess I’ve been having a few drinks instead.”
She turned on the grill and stood waiting for it to heat up. With her back turned to him, she loosened her wrap, then pulled it closely round her as if to avoid spotting the material from the hissing fat.
Denny could see the slim outline of her figure, the soft curve of her buttocks, and he suddenly wanted her very badly. He turned away and took another drink. “Where’s your unpleasant friend?” he asked abruptly.
Stella stiffened. “Gerda?” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. “What do you mean—unpleasant?”
Denny shrugged. “Forget it,” he said; “I was forgetting she was a friend of yours.”