Steamy, Steamy Claire

May 13, 2020. One of the Najbreit estates in Los Angeles.

There’s cocktail shrimp, a charcuterie board, and a pitcher of sangria laid out on the dining table, all cast in a warm glow from the rays of the afternoon sun. There’s nobody else sitting in the room. In fact, I haven’t seen a single person since I pulled up to the house on my newly bought Ducati, the heavy glass door silently unlocking moments after I hit the buzzer.

I can only assume that I’m meant to wait here at this table with all of its little delicacies.

I can hear the thrum of a shower going from somewhere deeper within the house. I’m a couple minutes early. Claire must just be freshening up.

I decide that now’s as good a time as any to check my scores on the AMA again:

Sean Corolla, Score: -30 (as Markus), 36 (as Claude) (+43)

Morgan Merrygold, Score: -20 (as Markus), 39 (as Claude) (+21)

Tiffany Najbreit, Score: 100 (as Markus and Claude) (3 Spillover Points)

Amanda Najbreit, Score: -200 (as Markus), -19 (as Claude) (-22)

Hanna Maria Rothschild, Score: -50 (as Markus), 24 (as Claude) (-1)

Claire Najbreit, Score: -200 (as Markus), 34 (as Claude) (+23)

Ella Sue Sergeant, Score: 90 (as Markus and Claude) (+5)

Following the latest meeting between the Simonds and the Rothschilds and the Zuboff party too, nothing here is too surprising. The upwards swing in Sean’s score is big, so I figure he must have thought we really hit it off back at the party. I can’t fault him. Chilling with him was fun.

I’m getting close to the fifty breakpoint with a couple others on the list. Just a little more concerted effort, and my back and my chest and my arms and everything else that’s been hurting isn’t going to kill me anymore. I breathe out. Just got to power through this meeting, and then the next couple days.

I stuff myself with some cheese and cured meat and slowly sip from my glass of sangria when I realise that the shower hasn’t stopped running. What’s Claire still doing in there?

Curiosity gets the better of me and I set down my glass, getting out of my seat. I navigate towards the shower by sense of hearing, walking through adjoint parlours filled with wavy couches and hundred-thousand dollar paintings procured by Holly, following the sound of rushing water until I come to a shut white door—the first closed door I’ve seen in this house.

I press my ear to the door and I hear the shower running within. On autopilot, my hand reaches for the doorknob, and tests it with a gentle turn. The door’s unlocked.

I pause then.

Am I really about to open this door?

I need to talk to her before Tiffany and Mandy get here for the official meeting. I don’t know what Tiffany’s thinking, I need a second opinion, and I certainly can’t trust Mandy’s take on the matter.

I quietly turn the doorknob and push the door open a fraction.

I peek in.

The bathroom is large. The shower sits at the far end, enclosed by a layer of steamed glass. Claire stands, nude, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, lithe body on display for me to ogle as she showers. She’s standing with her back to me, her pert ass on display, her hands soaping up her tits…

I hardly notice as the door begins to swing open wider on its own, buoyed by the slight bit of momentum I gave it.

Fuck, I’ve always known that Claire was good looking, but I’ve never thought of her as hot like this until now…

“Did you come in to talk to me or to stare at my ass?” Claire says, her voice strangely echoey through the glass walls of her shower.

I freeze.

“I saw you making your way through the house,” she says, gesturing at a small touchscreen that I now see embedded into the shower-wall. “Who do you think let you in when you buzzed?”

“I thought one of the staff might have done it…”

“I sent them all away for the day. Figured our conversations might need a little more privacy than usual,” she says.

“You’re worried about Tiffany too?” I ask.

“Good, so you’re concerned too,” she says, sounding awfully relieved. She finishes lathering her tits and turns around to face me, the rush from the showerhead quickly rinsing away the soapy froth.

Claire has very perky breasts. I unconsciously lick my lips. The smile that crosses her face is nothing short of self-satisfied.

“What’s gotten into her head?” I ask.

“I was hoping you’d have an answer, you seem closer to her than the rest of us now,” she says. “By the by, that was awfully inconsiderate of you, leaving me to deal with Mandy over the last few days.”

“My exhibition opens in three days. I had to do marketing, put the finishing touches on some pieces, it’s a miracle that I even cleared enough space for today’s meeting—”

“And I’ve been stuck in a continuous shouting match with my sister for the last three days, trying to undo the damage that Tiffany did. It was hard to manage it without giving up on your plan,” Claire says.

She shrugs, basking in the heat of the shower for some last few seconds, before she shuts off the water. She steps out the glass and stands before me, dripping wet and naked. She’s small, barely over five feet tall, like a nymph out some exotic legend, small, sexy, and nude.

I take a step towards her. She cocks her head to the side. Daring me.

“Thank you for not caving in,” I say. “Mandy can be… intimidating.”

I take another step. I could reach out, touch her, she’s so close.

“Is that all you have to say?” she asks, breath light and airy, a hint of steam gesturing about her lips. I feel its warmth on mine, and the twinkle of her dark eyes.

A hand of mine reaches behind the slick of her shoulder and pulls her glistening body in. She’s slippery, my hand drops down low, cupping her ass as I bend down and kiss her, she’s on her tiptoes, my hand by her ass supporting her, her mouth so hot on mine. We make out heavy, tongues battling against each other, her kisses exquisite, stirring something downstairs.

I’m feeling daring. A finger slips lower, between her asscheeks and then wrapping around, brushing against the wet sheen of her pussy lips, the exaggerated, affronted gasp that Claire makes turning me on instantly, she bites my lower lip, I’m about to insert my finger in—

The LCD display in the shower starts buzzing. Claire breaks away, making a sound of frustration.

The image on the screen is from the camera mounted outside the door. It’s Tiffany and Mandy, here for the meeting.

“Fuck,” I say.

“Ten seconds,” Claire says, tossing me a hairdryer. “Dry off and meet them outside. And whatever happens in this meeting, we’re going to save your plan.”