This Crazy Rich Boy

Claire is just wrapping herself with a towel when Karen appears, her face white as sheet.

"What happened?"

"I'm sorry," Claire says. "I think I forgot to lock the bathroom door. So when your boyfriend…Well…"

Karen's eyes went round. "Did he see you?"

Claire could bȧrėly nod. "I think so."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Even…down there?"

Claire nods, expecting Karen to burst into hysterics. But then Karen doubles over, and for a moment Claire thinks Karen's having some acute stomach ache, but then she sees Karen's face contorted in laughter.

"Oh my God," Karen manages to blurt out through the giggling fit, "You've just been devirginized, Virgin Claire! Finally a man has seen you!"

"Are you serious? That was your boyfriend!"

"So what," Karen says, still trying to control her laughter. "Oh my God, Claire. Normally I would be angry, but it is YOU. There's no harm in letting you have some exposure. It is high time!"

"Sheesh. Karen, that was so embarrassing." Claire's face is still blushing.

"Don't you worry. That's nothing to Russell. He has seen tons of women's bodies, and I'm sure he only has the hots for this body of mine. It was an accident. Don't worry."

Just then Russell sheepishly appears round the corner. "Hi, Claire," he mutters, not directly looking at Claire. "So sorry about that. I wanted to pee, and the door was unlocked, so…. I didn't expect to find you here so… so bȧrė like that." Sheepish laughter, although Claire notices that Russell's eyes would furtively dart at her legs, like he's sizing her up.

"Sorry, it was actually my fault," Claire says, fixing up her towel, making sure it's securely in place to hide what needs to be hidden. "Won't happen again. I was just so tired. It has been a really long day."

"That's fine," Karen says. "Sorry about the intrusion. No biggie. Just go ahead with your ritual, Claire." Karen smiles. "Don't mind him. It's nothing to him."

Russell is nodding. "Yeah, it's… It's fine."

The two leave. Claire makes sure the door is not only properly locked, but she even pushes a pail in front of the door to bar it against any accidental opening again. She stands in front of the bathroom mirror, removing her towel, indeed resuming her ritual. She looks fine, come to think of it. Her perky brėȧsts are not so small, yet not so big. Just the right sizes, and she knows she has it, that X factor connoisseurs of beauty keep harping about. Her slim waist is only further accentuated by her hɨps. And her skin is so soft it felt like touching a baby's bottom. Karen is right—all this hotness is going to waste because nobody has seen it in all its glory. That's why Russell—try as he might, but he cannot hide the dėsɨrė in his eyes—saw something. Russell is smitten, and Claire knows it may become a complication. Russel, after all, is a known go-getter—his father owns a chain of jewelry stores across the city, and his wealth is a major reason why Karen is dating him. But the sword can cut both ways—Russell can easily dump Karen if he finds someone else worthy of replacing her. What if Russell suddenly dėsɨrės her? What if Russell dumps Karen and starts chasing Claire? Claire, despite everything she knows about the people in her apartment, could not help but smile. That would be wicked, she thinks. She won't say yes to that, of course, but that would be wicked and fun.

Don't be silly, Claire. It was an accident, she tells herself. As she soaks herself in the tub, her mind wanders again. If Gabriel Tan were not as evil as he is, he would be the perfect guy—he looks like an angel, with that perfect shoulder-length hair, that chiseled physique, that deep voice that could leave pȧntɨės in a twist. But sadly, he's not what he seems to be—the man's a douche, in all the meanings of the word. He doesn't even deserve maybe an iota of his reputation. He should be in an asylum somewhere, if only he's not that rich.

Claire's eyes is closed, replaying in her mind the earlier scene—there's something about how Gabriel Tan gets angry. It's cute, in an odd way, like you'd love to make him angry just to see a sėxier side of him. The way he smashes that cup of coffee against the wall. The devil-may-care attitude. The sheer sense of entitlement, like he knows he owns the world, and acts exactly like it. There's something sinister and sėxy about him. What if?... What if?...

A loud knock on the bathroom door, and Karen's voice from the other side.

"Claire! Someone's on the phone. Says he's your boss. Says it's very, very urgent!"