Out in the street again he took out a joint, lit it, and passed it to the Englishwoman.

Sylvia put her arms around the Englishman's waist and looked him deep in the eyes.

"I want," she said, "to drink these bottles together with you. In your room."

The Brit gulped audibly and looked at his wife. 3 "She can play with Mac at the same time," Sylvia whispered, and kissed him on the lips. "It's perfectly al right with me."

They hailed another taxi.

The Central hotel Paris was a clean, simple spot in Montparnasse.

They took the lift to the third floor and tumbled, giggling and slightly stoned, into the room, which looked out on the Rue du Maine.

The wal s were sunshine yel ow. In the middle of the thick sky blue carpet was an enormous double bed.

"I'l get this bubbly stuff opened at once," Mac said, taking one of the bottles of champagne into the bathroom. "No one go anywhere."

Sylvia kissed the Englishman again, more seriously this time, using her tongue. She noticed his breathing get quicker. He probably had a full erection already.

"I expect you're a big boy, aren't you?" she said in a seductive voice, her hand moving along his leg, up toward his crotch.

She could see the Englishwoman was blushing, but she said nothing to stop this from proceeding.

"Bottoms up!" Mac said, coming back into the room with four improvised champagne glasses on the tray that had held the toothbrush glasses.

"Here we go!" Sylvia cried, swiftly taking one of the glasses and knocking it back.

The British pair were quick to fol ow her example. Mac laughed and went around refil ing the glasses.

Then he lit another joint, which was perfectly rol ed.

"How long have you been married?" Sylvia asked, inhaling and passing the marijuana cigarette.